The Distance to Here
by Domlando Blonaghan
Summary: Exiled from those he was closest to, he wanders the streets, a penniless wretch hunted by supporters and rebels alike. Running from his guilt, he falls into the hands of those who have reason to hate him most and finds solace. DHr
1. The Fox in the Henhouse

Summary: Exiled from those he was closest to, he wanders the streets, a penniless wretch hunted by supporters and rebels alike. He stands alone in a world torn apart by evil forces unchecked. Running from his guilt, he falls into the hands of those who have reason to hate him most and finds solace. 

Disclaimer: Roses are red, violets are blue, I don't own Harry Potter, and neither do you! (unless you're J.K. Rowling)

A/N: Hi everyone! Here's out first fic in the HP fandom. As always, constructive crit is a must. In case you don't already know, this is (if you don't want to know the pairing, then close your eyes and say LALALA really loudly) Draco/Hermione, and others to be revealed later, but they're secondary anyway. We love reviews, and since HP fics always seem to get a lot, we thought, what the hell. We'll give it a go. So, review, and try to put something constructive in it, but if you insist on being bitchy we'll get a good laugh. If you want instant D/Hr gratification, I suggest you look elswhere. THIS IS NOT A MARY SUE where it's action first, story later. Bye!

The Distance to Here

"We have received reports of Death Eater activity from our Oxford correspondent. It's in a Muggle bar called 'The Fox in the Hen house', so dress appropriately. Okay?" the Minister of Wizarding Justice asked, raising a bushy red brow.

Ronald Weasley was sitting in his office. It was dull and plain, serving its purpose without being luxurious. Decorations hadn't been high on the list of priorities since Cornelius Fudge had disappeared. Most of the furniture was black, save a mahogany desk and a white lamp. A few pieces of paper littered the floor. The only decoration was a picture of Ron, Hermione, and Harry on the day they had graduated from Hogwarts. It reminded him of the times before their world had been turned upside down. 

"Sure Ron," said Hermione confidently. A young Auror, Hermione had joined the agency the summer after her final year at Hogwarts. "We'll go get ready." She turned to the handsome, dark-haired man beside her and asked, "What about you? You ready?"

Harry looked thoughtful. "Ron, do you have any descriptions for us? Profiles? Anything? We've never done a job with this little information before. Do you know who we're supposed to be looking for?" Harry liked to have all of his operations planned out so everything would go off without a hitch. With next to no information about what they were looking for, the possibilities of a failed mission seemed highly likely. His way of going about Auror jobs was quite different from Hermione's.

Ron looked sympathetically at Harry and said, "Sorry Harry, nothing. All the correspondent told us was they had been tipped off about a Death Eater on the run, and to keep a look-out. Couple hours ago a shady looking character came in and sat alone in the corner. Our correspondent called us immediately. Do your best to find out what you can." Ron was certain that Harry and Hermione would find this Death Eater and he, Ron, would bring him to justice.

Hermione turned and strode out of the room. She was also sure this Death Eater would be caught. She and Harry had different ways of working. She liked to read up on tactics and strategy, but didn't think it necessary to use different schemes for different people. Harry was the careful one, always preferring to know something about the personality and habits of the Death Eater they were after so they could easily catch him or her. However they worked, though, they were two of the most successful Aurors of the last few decades.

"Okay, Hermione, you go ahead and get ready, I have to talk to Cho," Harry said with a sigh. His fiance of three months, had progressively been getting testier and testier. Harry understood her work was stressful, but it upset him that Cho took out her frustration on him.

Hermione gave a wry smile and rolled her eyes. "Good luck." Hermione had never really approved of Cho, and hated the way she treated Harry. More and more often they would get into screaming matches that the whole Ministry could hear. 

At the start of their relationship, Cho had been sweet and understanding about Harry's dangerous and often unpredictable job. Occasionally, they had gotten into little squabbles, usually over her concern for Harry's safety, but they had always resolved it with no permanent damage. Then Cho had received her promotion, to Minister of Muggle Relations. It was quite a stressful job, mainly because of the fact that the number of Muggle killings had shot up since the start of Voldemort's new attempts to gain power over the Wizarding world. She was in constant communication with the Prime Minister, persuading him to hand over Death Eaters that had taken refuge in the Muggle World. She had been the first Minister for Muggle Relations to establish a permanent ambassador from the Wizarding World. Seamus Finnigan was well liked by everyone, charismatic and outgoing, and was perfect for the job. The added stress had been trying on Cho's patience and good will, and Harry had taken the brunt of her anger. 

Harry walked to his fiance's office, wondering what objects would be thrown at him today. He reached the heavy oak door, squared his shoulders, gave a deep sigh, and knocked. 

"This better be important!" Cho yelled from her desk, scattered with papers. Three owls were sitting on a perch by the window, waiting to be attended to. "Oh, Harry! Well, what do want?" Her voice had changed from dangerously sharp to a false sort of pleasantry, her smile not reaching her eyes. 

"Er," he said, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck nervously. "WellIhavetogoawayagaintocatchaDeathEaterandIhavetoleavenow." Harry said, all the words jumbling together. This reminded him uncannily of the time he had asked Cho to the Yule Ball in fourth year. All those times seemed an age ago.

"Oh, I see," she said dangerously, folding her hands together in a seemingly casual way. But Harry could see that her knuckles were turning white from the force she was exerting. "And how long will you be gone for _this _time?" 

"Er," he said again. 'Er' was becoming the predominant word in his vocabulary, every time he was around Cho lately. "Not for long, I don't think. It's a pretty simple job."

Cho's hands came unfolded. Her right snaked over to her designer lamp, and clenched it tightly. "That's what you said _last _time. And you were gone for three weeks! I can't deal with this anymore Harry. All these 'trips' away from home with Granger, your 'informant' is coincidentally the girl who has been in love with you since she was ten years old? What would you think if you were in my position, Harry? Do you ever think about me? I have so much riding on my shoulders right now, and I don't need this added stress. Can't you just get a desk job?"

"Cho, are you accusing me of cheating on you? You know I would never…" Harry exclaimed indignantly. "I asked _you _to marry me, remember? Not Hermione, not Ginny, you. I don't appreciate your unfounded accusations. I know you're stressed, and I don't want to create anymore for you." Harry thought for a moment before saying, "maybe we should split up for awhile, you know, absence makes the heart grow fonder."

"What?" Cho hissed. "We have that dinner in three days. The Ministry dinner. Do you know how it will look if I show up without you?" Harry ducked in time to avoid the lamp thrown his way. One of the owls hooted nervously. "Just get out! I can't even look at you right now, Harry Potter!"

He sighed and turned to leave and banged right into Neville Longbottom. "S-sorry, Harry, I just heard a noise, and-"

"It's alright, Neville. We just had an- accident." Harry pushed past his clumsy friend and walked slowly back to his office, trying to ignore the not-so-subtle stares of his co-workers.

"I heard the crash. I assume things didn't go so well?" Hermione asked dryly as Harry lifted his head up from the desk. He gave a humourless chuckle. He was used to Hermione's wit, but wasn't exactly in the mood for silliness right now. 

"We're splitting up for a while. I expect she just needs to catch up on her work, minimize the stress, you know? And the best way I can help is to get out of her way and do my job, so she doesn't have to explain all these Muggle killings to the Prime Minister." Harry sounded like he was trying to convince himself of these reasons, and failing miserably. Hermione sighed. She was used to Harry's ever-present optimism, but it was very tiring to listen to.

"Good idea, Harry," she said, with as much enthusiasm as she could muster. She knew her friend was hurting, so she did what she could to try to lift his spirits. She gave him a hug and smiled. "I know everything will work out for you, Harry. Okay, let's go." 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A tall blond was sitting hunched over a shot of Bourbon in the 'Fox in the Hen house'. This was his tenth shot in five minutes. He slumped unconscious over the bar, trying to escape from the hellish reality of his life. 

Pictures flashed in his mind. A skull- bursts of green light- his girlfriend of three years laying motionless on the cold pavement- his father's wild eyes glaring at him in hatred. He'd had this dream, or rather nightmare, before. He was shaken out of his unconsciousness by a cold hand on the back of his neck. 

"What's the matter, baby? A pretty boy like you should be out there dancing," drawled a voice. It a raspy undertone, probably from cigarette smoke, Draco judged, from the large amount of cheap perfume she wore to mask the smell. He looked up and saw two hazel eyes, slightly out of focus, staring at him. 

"I don't want to dance," he said sharply. Too bad he was so drunk he could barely stand. She was quite pretty, he noted, with long curly red hair, bronzed skin, and long legs. She was wearing a black leather miniskirt with thigh-high boots, along with a shimmery purple shirt that showed off her pierced belly button. 

The girl was quite persistent. She grabbed his arm and hauled him to his feet, dragging him out to the dance-floor, creating quite a scene in the process. He wrenched his arm out of her grasp, throwing the girl off-balance. He stalked back over to his barstool, where his faithful Bourbon sat waiting for him.

Outside, Harry and Hermione had Apparated a few minutes earlier, and walked into the bar, just in time to see a redhead go flying across the dance-floor, and the man responsible for it stagger back to his seat at the bar. Hermione gave a gasp of surprise. Harry looked down at her, she was looking at the blond man at the bar, eyes full of recognition. 

"'Mione, what's wrong?" Harry asked, bewildered. 

"Bloody hell," she whispered.


	2. In Which Much is Revealed

**The Distance to Here**

**Chapter 2**

****

                For once, Hermione Granger was at a loss for words. In the final year of their time at Hogwarts, Draco and Harry's boiling enmity, often displayed by harsh words and violence, had reduced to a simmering silence. She had always wondered if he had decided to follow in dear old Lucius' footsteps, and always hoped he hadn't. Lucius Malfoy was forever causing trouble at the Ministry. Murders they _knew he committed, but just couldn't pin on him, and the ever-present mystery of Cornelius Fudge's disappearance. If Draco was now a Death Eater… but no, he _was_ a Death Eater. Her senses told her that he was the only other wizard in the room. And yet- she couldn't picture him a Death Eater. She had once called him a "twitchy little ferret", but all the same, ferrets didn't kill Muggles. She had found him annoying, rude, a complete bloody moron, but she never considered him evil. She turned to look at Harry._

                He was white, skin contrasting sharply to the dark shock of hair, still untameable. His bright green eyes, usually squinted with the charming smile that made witches all over the world swoon, were wide-open and staring, emotionless, where the tall blond, unconscious form of Draco Malfoy slumped over the bar. He swallowed loudly. 

                "Let's go," he said hoarsely.

                "Well, at least he can't resist arrest," Hermione added with a wry smile, looking up at her friend. He returned it hesitantly, but at least it reached his eyes. The colour was coming back into his face now. He was putting his emotions in check. They had learned a long time ago that emotions had no place in the field. They distorted your judgement and made you question events that were straightforward. An image flashed in Hermione's mind. She and Harry had been relatively new to the Ministry and had been sent out to intercept a suspected Voldemort supporter. They had done their job, but it had its consequences. The supporter had been Roger Davies, the former Ravenclaw captain, and an old school friend of Harry and Hermione's. They had almost let him get away, due to their slow action and general shock. From that moment on, they had kept their emotions under control and had learned to go about their business without interacting too much with their captives.

                Draco was slumped over the bar, hand still clutching his Bourbon. Harry gave Hermione a dryly amused look. She smiled in return. The tall blond looked like a scarecrow, taken from his place and thrust into a busy life he wasn't ready for. He had grown emaciated, almost, relying on no food and a lot of drinks, except for the odd bar peanut. His features relaxed, he looked quite innocent, quite harmless. He was dishevelled and dirty; his clothes stained with travel and spilled drinks, almost pitiable. His eyes were closed; he breathed softly, his mouth slightly open. Hermione saw innocence in that face.

                Harry walked over to Malfoy and prodded him to make sure he was unconscious. Satisfied that he was, Harry did not relish the idea of dealing with a conscious Draco, he slung one of Draco's arms over his broad shoulder. Hermione hurried over and caught Malfoy's other arm. His breath smelled of Bourbon and raspberry wine cooler. Harry nodded to the bartended, tossed some money on the bar to pay for Draco's drinks, and walked out to loud protestations form the redhead, still bent on dancing with the unconscious man with his head on Hermione's shoulder. Sighing with dissent, she focused on holding up his body weight. She was strong, a few years in the field causing her muscles to tone up, but it was too hard to hold up the lithe frame dragging itself along the ground.

"Will you do the honours, or shall I?" Harry asked as they stepped into the alley alongside the Fox in the Henhouse. Criminals, especially suspected Death Eaters, were taken to an anonymous safe-house in Fulham where they were questioned and then either released or taken to Azkaban to await trial.

                "You'd better do it. He's so bloody heavy, I'll probably lose him along the way." She grimaced at the blond head resting tranquilly on her shoulder.

                It was dark out now, Harry could hear the faint howling of dogs and hissing of cats. Somehow, this made him think of Cho. He wondered if she was as torn as he was. He had been so happy during the first few years of their relationship. His disappointment at it not having worked out was bordering on depression. Only one thing could draw him back into the person he had once been.

***

                "I am most displeased." A voice full of malice and disappointment filled the darkness. An uneasy stir rippled around the room. "He knows too much. His removal would mean no further… disruptions."

                "My Lord," an oily voice with more than a hint of fear in it broke the silence. "We have been searching, My Lord, we have-," his cry shattered the air. A blinding white light flashed, exposing an expression of terror on a young lady's face. She quickly realized her mistake and a mask of indifference replaced the unmistakable disgust. Anyone who looked at her in that moment would have seen her exposed, but as it was, with red hair masked in a black, hooded cloak, blue eyes a wall of anonymity, no one would look at her. Her greatest asset had proved useful for this task, her ability converse easily, probe for secrets, and then fade from memory. 

                From the cold stone floor, Lucius Malfoy was rising slowly to his feet, wincing. "Thank you, My Lord. We will find him. And he will die in pain, the punishment of his cowardice."

                "There must be no mercy, Lucius. He may be your son, but only by blood. We are your true family, Lucius. Be mindful of that."

                Lucius bowed and returned to his place in the circle, backing up slowly. His countenance, usually cool and austere, was now twisted with vengeance, his normally pristine hair, greying at the roots, was askew. 

                Ginny observed him with detached shrewdness. She had spent her whole life trying to uncover the psyche of the Death Eaters. Ever since her brief encounter with Tom Riddle in her first year, she had pondered the inner workings of their minds. Now she watched Lucius' face contort with fury, and could see his thoughts displayed clearly there. She knew that he blamed his humiliation on his son and that he would go to any lengths to restore his standing in Voldemort's estimation. There was a saying: "hell hath no fury like a woman scorned"; a Death Eater scorned was much worse. 

                Lord Voldemort silently rose from his seat at the head of the room and glided toward various Death Eaters before he stopped in front of Ginny. His red, cat-like eyes looked her over intently, seeming to want to uncover all of her secrets. This disconcerted her slightly. She had always striven to be anonymous, not liking to be in the limelight, lest she attract suspicion. Ginny realized she was losing her indifferent façade and quickly resumed her usual apathetic air. As much as she had studied the mind of Death Eaters, the mind of Lord Voldemort was ever a mystery. Intelligent, cunning, ruthless, and persuasive, he always seemed to be a step ahead of everyone else. 

                "Miss Weasley," said an icy voice, "the foolish little girl who unwittingly almost brought me back all those years ago. Well, I'm glad to see you've returned to finish the job." He turned to the rest of the Death Eaters and said, "Odd, isn't it? That a small girl with little magical talent could almost have succeeded in doing what none of you could? And in a fraction of the time!" The circle of wizards and witches garbed in black stood quiet for a moment and then began to rumble with uncertain laughter. Ginny too, laughed, although only too aware of the insults condescendingly directed at her. She reminded herself that Ginny the Death Eater would have been wildly overjoyed that Voldemort had addressed her, and so began to laugh quite loudly. 

                Voldemort slowly turned to face her again and the laughter in the room stopped abruptly. "But, my dear, you've actually turned into quite a fine witch. I confess myself to have been observing you for quite some time." He smiled his lipless smile and ceased speaking, allowing this remark to sink into Ginny's mind.

                _Oh God, _she thought. _He knows. He knows what I've been doing. Great, they're going to kill me right here. Just dandy._ Ginny's mind roved crazily from outrageous thought to outrageous thought. Strangely enough, she felt resigned. If they were going to kill her, then, that's what they would do. She knew enough about Death Eaters to know that if they enjoyed torturing Muggles for the simple fact that they _were_ Muggles, they would do much worse to a snitch. An informant. A Ministry mole.

                "I have an assignment for you, Miss Weasley." Voldemort's cold voice penetrated her thoughts. He was still staring at her intently. The rest of the room began to stir, the rest of the Death Eaters murmuring to each other, wondering what would happen.

_An assignment?_ Ginny pondered. _He's not going to make me kill myself, is he? No, that's silly, _she thought outrageously. 

                "You, my dear, have the much coveted job of disposing of a certain person who could trouble us greatly." Voldemort's unfeeling eyes flicked for a second to Lucius. Lucius' own eyes blazed with anger. He had wanted that job. If he had been chosen to kill Draco, he would have been able to wipe out the humiliation he had suffered and also have become Voldemort's most trusted ally again. Hatred coursed through his veins. This upstart young girl would have to pay for getting in his way.

                Ginny felt the eyes of every Death Eater present on her. Of course she would have to comply with Voldemort's wishes. It would be folly, and probably death, not to. Voldemort turned and swept soundlessly out of the room. Ginny slowly summoned up the courage to look at everyone else in the room. Jealousy, suspicion and abhorrence were the looks in their eyes. 

                _Well, so much for not being in the limelight, Ginny, _that one sensible corner of her mind said. _Wonder what you're in for now._

***

                The non-descript black car pulled into a parking lot behind the Ministry's London safe-house. Hermione and Harry got out of the car, pulled Malfoy's still prone body out after them, and quickly walked into the building.  Inside, it was cold and dreary. The Ministry, always quite thrifty, had sparsely decorated the interior of the safe-house. The room in which Malfoy was installed had a bed with a thin mattress, lumpy pillow, burned-out lamp, a desk and two chairs. Hermione and Harry, exhausted, collapsed on the chairs, letting the events of the night sink in. 

                Harry was the first to speak. "Hermione, you know what I want to do, right? I think we should just toss him into Azkaban and let him rot there. He deserves it. You know he does." 

                "Harry," Hermione replied, "you _know_ we can't do that. What he deserves, my friend, is none of our concern. Our job was to bring him in. He gets a trial. Everyone gets a trial, Harry. You can't just go throwing people into prison, its inhumane! Not to mention horribly unfair." Hermione was still unconvinced that Malfoy was capable of such malicious acts of violence that she knew Death Eaters got up to.

                Harry had been pacing the floor and suddenly spun on his heel and glared at Hermione. "No, 'Mione. You know what's unfair? Malfoy getting away with murders I _know_ he's committed! That's what's unfair! I'm sure you wouldn't feel so forgiving if we hadn't gone to school with him," Harry spat angrily. He whirled and punched his fist into the wall, leaving a small dent.

                "Stop it, Harry! You're letting your emotions get the better of you. Now get yourself under control because we don't have time for squabbles. Besides, if we keep yelling, he'll wake up," Hermione stated matter-of-factly.

                Actually, they'd already woken 'him' up. Malfoy had been awake since he'd first been laid on the bed. He'd learned early on that if you wanted to find out inside information pretending you weren't there, or in his case, unconscious, was one of the best ways of getting it. He quickly deduced where he was and why he was there. The events that had led him to be where he was were a little blurry, however.  The biggest shock was realizing in whose company he was. Harry Potter, who evidently still harboured some ill-will toward him, and Hermione Granger, who had evidently become an equal rights activist on top of an Auror. Malfoy thought that Hermione would have agreed to Harry's suggestion of tossing him in jail posthaste. Apparently she took her job and all its rules very seriously. _Well, why should that surprise me,_ wondered Malfoy. 

                "Excuse me. I hate to interrupt this little lovers quarrel, but do you think it would be possible to tell me what I'm doing here," Malfoy drawled. Better feign ignorance, he decided. Harry and Hermione jumped. They'd thought he was still out cold. Hermione wondered how much he'd heard. Bloody lucky they hadn't been discussing classified information.

                Harry stared directly into Malfoy's eyes. "I think you know perfectly well why you're here, although you were completely smashed when we found you. Daddy not around anymore," he asked viciously. Malfoy's face betrayed nothing, save for a split second when his eyes clouded over, as if trying to block out painful memories.

                Hermione noticed it, but decided not to say anything about it at present. Instead she turned to Harry and quipped, "Way to keep your emotions in check." 


	3. Past Relived

The Distance to Here

Chapter 3

                "He's gone. Disappeared without a trace, I've never seen anything like it. The last time a kidnapping was covered up this well was Bertha Jorkins. And we all know who was responsible for that incident," Remus Lupin ran a hand through his rapidly graying hair. Stress was the cause of those silver streaks. He added wryly, "And we all know what the consequences of her disappearance were."

                Ron sighed, forcing his tired eyes open. He was far too young for all this drama. Disappearances, high profile cases, he was the media-bunny for the entire Ministry. Everyone asked him the tough questions, hounded him and twisted his words into pessimism when he was trying his best to reassure the frightened public.  When Death Eaters went free, it somehow boiled down to his incompetence. Not the fact that juries all over the country were being bribed and coerced. "Well, just keep trying, I know if anyone can find something you can. But maintain your low profile. Snuffles hasn't been cleared yet and- oh speak of the devil."

Snuffles, the loveable black lab came bounding into the office, closely followed by Cho, waving her arms madly about. "That filthy animal! Jesus Ron, if you don't bloody control that animal, I'll have him put down!" Her expression mirrored the dog's, who was baring his teeth and snarling softly.

A glance at the dog's expression, she began backing out of the room. "By the way, have you heard from my wayward fiancé? I haven't heard a word all night or this morning. Probably out with your floozy of a sister-"

                At this Snuffles started walking towards Cho, barking and growling. She took one glance at him and simply fled back to her office, leaving trail of scattered paperwork as she went.

                Ron groaned and ran a hand through his vibrant hair. "Honestly, I don't know what Harry sees in her. What I wouldn't  give to have that bitch fired." He strode over to his office door, safely locking it. "Alright Sirius, have it out, mate."

                Snuffles quickly grew into the form of a handsome, no longer emaciated, man. He had cut his hair, explaining that it got far less greasy when short, and his teeth had returned to their normal colour, with some help from Remus and his latest experiment. The only difference from the man in the worn picture album that Harry toted everywhere was that his hair had some streaks of silver in it, and fine lines appeared on his forehead, furrowed from long nights of poring over documents and following dead-end leads. 

                "We have intercepted an owl flying from the east in the direction of the Ministry building. It was carrying a letter in cryptic code. Snape is trying to crack it now, but so far it mentions Albania, transport of the package and Avery."  Sirius grimaced at the name. He knew Avery was a wily, clever man, always trying to get ahead. Sirius felt certain Avery would do whatever it took to gain Voldemort's attention and praise. 

                Ron looked puzzled. "Why would the owl be flying in the direction of the Ministry? How close was it, exactly?" This was odd. Surely if the owl held a letter containing messages about Albania, it would be heading _to_ Albania, not the Ministry.

                "The owl was heading towards the Owlery window. Looked like a Ministry owl, too. It was wearing a collar with the Ministry seal. No evidence of who sent it or who it was going to do," replied Sirius. Remus was disturbed by this new information.

                "What if," Remus began shakily, "there's someone _in_ the Ministry who's working against us? We never bothered to do screenings or background checks on anyone working here, you know." He knew what could happen if an undercover witch or wizard from the Dark Side was snooping around. The entire operation would be undermined, and the Ministry would have to start all over again to defeat Voldemort. The complications were drastic. 

                Sirius was having similar thoughts himself. However, the thought foremost in his mind was the added threat to his life by having a Voldemort supporter in his midst. If this person found out he was around, the Ministry would have him killed at once and the Voldemort supporter would look like a hero. 

                Ron got right down to business. "Okay, Remus, Sirius, I want every single person working in The Ministry checked out. Janitors, politicians, everyone. We can't let this go unnoticed. It has to be dealt with swiftly. If you find anything on anyone, no matter how small, I want to be informed. I know you both already have a lot on your plates, but this, I trust you know, is quite important." Ron turned to give Sirius a concerned look. "Sirius, you need to keep an especially low profile. We can't risk having you found out. That would be a serious blow to our intelligence contingent," Ron said with a smile.

                Sirius flushed at the compliment. He was still getting used to being treated as a person, not just a prisoner. At least by some people, he was treated as a person. Sirius had never been cleared by the government, but Ron had put a stop to the investigation, using the excuse that no reports had come in about Sirius Black recently and that all Voldemort's supporters were equally important to catch.

                                Just then, a bright red barn owl came into view, flying directly towards the 13th floor window of Ron's office. He quickly unlatched it and stood back. The owl glided gracefully in, and landed on the floor, features rapidly elongating and feathers disappearing. Ginny Weasley stood before their eyes. Sirius' mouth dropped open. Remus looked fit to be tied.

                "Ah, Ginny. Remus, Sirius, meet my sister, Ginny Weasley." Ron caught a glimpse of their faces. "Well, you didn't think that you were the only unregistered Animagi working for the Ministry, did you, Sirius?" he asked with a ghost of a smile. He whispered to Ginny conspiratorially, "You shattered his dreams, Gin."

                Gathering their composure, they both shook hands with the pretty young woman before them and turned to look questioningly at Ron. 

                "Care to explain, Ron?" Sirius asked.

                "Maybe I'd better do it," Ginny spoke up. "I know more than you do about this anyway." She took a deep breath and sat in one of the lumpy black sofas against the wall. "I'm a Ministry spy. A Death Eater." Seeing their faces she laughed. "Not a real one of course. To become a Death Eater you have to perform the Three Unforgivable Curses on three different people. Cruciatus and Imperius were simple. Perform them on Muggle criminals and then Obliviate their arses. But the AK was harder. We were developing it in Espionage for a year. A Simulacrum. We used Snape's body. He had been training me for a year, while we developed the Simulacrum. He got me accepted into the Death Eater circle, and then when it was time for my initiation, gave me instructions to expose him. It showed my utmost loyalty to Voldemort, exposing my senior, and it was my 'privilege' to dispose of him. It was my final test. So now I am a full-fledged Death Eater. But not trusted yet. Voldemort is cunning, and too intelligent to trust anyone. What I am privy to is mostly general information, but it has helped in the past."

                She rose up from the sofa and smiled. "Ron, I need to speak with you." He looked confused.

                "Alright, go ahead," he looked at her encouragingly.

                "No, Ron, I need to speak with _you,_" she looked meaningfully at him, raising one of her eyebrows. A look of comprehension came into his eyes.

                "Thanks Remus, Snuffles, send word when you get the chance, and when Snape figures that letter out." Sirius 'dog-ified' himself and turned to go out, followed by Lupin. "Wizard Wheezes, on Tuesday, spread the word to the regulars. Oh, and be careful," Ron called after them.

                When they had left, he turned to look at his younger sister, concern filling his eyes. "Alright Gin, I'm all yours."

                "Voldemort gave me a real assignment," she said hesitantly.

***

Harry and Hermione stood outside Draco's make-shift room, that could better have been described as a cell. They were arguing about what to do with the hung-over man contained therein. 

                "I still say we send him to Azkaban. The man is dangerous, and there's no reason why he can't be interrogated in his cell," Harry said resolutely. "It's no more than he deserves."

                "No. Harry, it would be much safer if he stayed here. At least we know that we'll keep an eye on him. And you know how faulty the security at Azkaban has been. Since the Dementors deserted and went to Voldemort, nothing has been safe. There's been wand smuggling, Harry! We can't risk that, and you know it. You're just afraid of bringing up childhood memories. Don't be a bloody coward! If I can deal with it you can!" Harry gave her a mutinous look, but he knew she was right. Sensing eyes on him, he turned to tiny cubic window of Draco's room. Hermione turned to look as well. They both saw Draco's intense stare for a split second before he turned away, humming non-chalantly to himself.

                Hermione sighed. She was getting a little tired of the petty squabbles and unfinished business between herself, Malfoy and Harry. "Okay Harry, let's go listen to his story," she said. Actually, she was quite interested in what Malfoy had to say about his current predicament. It was bound to be interesting, whatever it was. 

                Malfoy glanced up as Harry and Hermione re-entered the room. While, settling themselves comfortably on their chairs Malfoy asked, "Okay, what is it you want, exactly? Just tell me, no beating around the bush, and no more little conferences concerning me. Clear?" 

                Harry jumped to his feet, "Hey, listen! We're in charge here! We're not going to take orders from a criminal," he hissed.

                Malfoy's signature smirk spread onto his face. "Oh, I see. Still living in the past, Potter? You always did. You know, your parents and all. As it is, I believe I'd rather speak to Hermione. She seems quite a bit more rational than you." Malfoy knew he'd hit a nerve in Harry. _Better not make it any worse for yourself, _he said to himself. _No point in giving them something else to throw me into prison for._

                "Alright Malfoy. Let's hear how you got into this little situation," Hermione jumped in. She knew Malfoy was only trying to provoke Harry, and she didn't want to deal with two angry wizards, one of them a Death Eater. 

                "I'd hardly call my 'situation' little, Granger," he said smoothly. "But, as it seems I have no choice but to tell the both of you, here goes." He took a deep breath and began his story. "As I suppose you've both deduced, I've become a Death Eater. Well, no. That's not quite true, and that is where my troubles begin."

***

Lucius Malfoy looked at his son fondly. Draco had performed the first two Unforgivable Curses faultlessly and without emotion, the way a Death Eater should. The last test, Avada Kedavra, still had to be done, and soon. Lucius reclined on his chair and wondered who to pick to 'help' Draco in this test. The witch or wizard had to be chosen carefully in order to make the test the hardest and most trying. 

                As Lucius was thinking, Draco got up and checked the time. "I have to go, Father. I promised Pansy I'd pick her up at eight for dinner." He turned to walk out of the room, but stopped when his father asked, "You are quite fond of Pansy are you, my son? In love?" Draco wheeled around to stare incredulously at his father. Lucius Malfoy had never been one to pay attention to his child's welfare, let alone his feelings. Draco wondered what had inspired him to ask, but thought it best to answer honestly.

                "Yeah, I guess I am in love with her. I don't know what I'd do if anything ever happened to her. Why?" Draco asked.

                Lucius's mouth had curved into a malicious smile. "Oh, no reason, Draco, no reason," he said in a tone that made Draco think there was a very _big_ reason why he was asking. With a final puzzled look at his father, he picked up his coat and left the house.

                Lucius started to laugh. "Yes," he said aloud, "Miss Pansy Parkinson will do quite well, I think." 

                After he Malfoy got home that night, Lucius informed him that he would be performing the Avada Kedavra curse the next night. "Who will be my witness, Father? Which Death Eater? Not Crabbe or Goyle, they probably wouldn't be able to tell if the person was dead or alive," he joked.

                Lucius smiled. "No, Draco, I will be witness to your final test. I know it's not usual to have a relative as witness, but I managed to procure Voldemort's permission." Draco thought it better not to ask just what he had done to get that permission. "Sleep well, Draco," his father said before silently leaving the room.

                Malfoy hardly slept a wink that night. His mind just wouldn't shut down. He knew that Lucius was immensely proud of him for performing the Crucio and Imperio curses so admirably, and probably thought Draco was proud of himself as well. Draco, however, hadn't been jumping through hoops when he'd executed the curses. He'd done it out of necessity. Being a Death Eater was his lot in life. He had no choice. His last coherent thought before finally drifting off into sleep was, _I wonder who it will be._

                The next evening came much to quickly for Malfoy's taste. His father led him into a dark room far into a wing of Malfoy Manor. Lucius left him to wait while he brought in the witch he decided to use for Draco's test. He was gone for a few minutes and Draco was left to wonder if he knew the person he'd have to kill. When he came back, he was dragging Pansy behind him. It didn't quite register in Draco's head what was happening. Had Pansy been invited to watch? Then it all clicked. _That's why he asked me if I loved her, _he realized. 

                "Now, Draco. Here is your chance to attain all you want," he said pleasantly. The look on Lucius's face clearly said that he figured Malfoy would have no scruple at killing his girlfriend of three years. Draco turned to look at Pansy. Tears were silently falling down her face and her eyes were begging him not to do it. Draco raised his wand, his eyes locked with Pansy's. Suddenly he stopped. He stood staring at Pansy, images of the past three years flashing through his mind. He couldn't. He knew he couldn't do it. 

                Draco turned to look at his father. "Father, I can't do this. I'm sorry," he said coolly. Even he was surprised at how steady his voice was. "I can't. I told you I loved Pansy. How can you ask me to give that up for a black robe and a bad reputation?" Pansy choked with relief and started to walk to Draco, when she caught a glimpse of Lucius's face. His eyes were blazing with hatred. Slowly, he took a few steps toward his son. 

                "Do you know," he asked softly, "what will happen to my reputation, and this family's, if you refuse this task? Our life will be in shambles because of you. I will not let that happen, you ingrate." He stepped back, raised his wand, and said, "I'll have to do this myself. I'll make up something to tell Voldemort, something about your tragic demise, but I will not give up my life because my son is a coward!"

                Just as he lowered his wand and shouted 'Avada Kedavra', Pansy threw herself in front of Draco, shielding him from the force of his father's curse. Pansy got the full blast of it, and died instantly, before she even hit the floor. Draco dropped to his knees beside Pansy, hoping against hope that somehow she'd survived. But, of course, she hadn't. He looked up at his father, still adamant on killing Draco. Draco scrambled to grab his wand and Apparated before Lucius could yell Avada Kedavra again. 

                He'd Apparated into London. _Good, _he thought. _Lots of people. Gives me time to hide. _He'd bought a hotel room, but seldom spent any time there, opting instead to drink his way through the night. Drowning his sorrows. In the back of his mind he knew Pansy's death wasn't his fault. She was trapped. If Draco hadn't killed her, Lucius would've. And he did. Still, Draco blamed himself. He was always on his guard now, jumping when anyone spoke to him, suspecting everyone was following him, ready to turn him in to Voldemort. 

***

                "That's when you picked me up. So you see, I'm alone. Hunted by both sides, both of which want me dead, or at least," he said with a wry look at Harry, "locked safely away." He'd been pacing the floor while he spoke and now looked at Harry and Hermione. Harry was expressionless, his face betraying nothing. Hermione, however, had chosen to disregard her own advice, and was letting her emotions get the better of her. She looked appalled and sorry. 

                Hermione didn't know what to say. Whatever she had been expecting Malfoy to tell them, it wasn't that. She whispered to Harry, "We need to discuss this outside." She got up and stiffly walked out of the room, Harry following in a slow gait his eyes still on Malfoy. 


	4. New Resolutions

The Distance to Here

Chapter 4

A/N: Hi everybody! Here's chapter 4, and thank you for all the support we've been getting. Lots of things are revealed in this chapter, and there is a lot of insight into the mind of Draco, why he is who he is, and what his next steps are going to be. I know there are a lot of characters right now, and we have to introduce them all, so that's why the action has been kind of slow. But this is a definite plot point, so read carefully! And please review to give us some Constructive Crit! Thank you again!

~*~

            "There's only one way to know for sure," Harry said urgently. "I don't believe him, he has never shown any evidence that he was capable of any emotions but anger and hate. Except when he was gloating over Ron. We have to use the Veritaserum."

                "That is illegal without the consent of the prisoner. Draco is a Malfoy, Harry, he has too much pride to expose himself fully and truthfully to you! If the positions were switched, and you had an opportunity to bare your soul before Draco Malfoy, would you?" She knew she had him there. If he ever said that he would do it, it was bullshit, and both of them knew it.

                "I am not the one on trial, here, 'Mione! He committed the crimes! We could indict him for use of the Unforgiveables, and it would put him away for 10 years in Azkaban."

                "You know as well as I do that if we put him away we lose all chance of getting information about his father from him. Now who is being biased here? We keep him until we find out as much as we can from him. You can decide if he's guilty as we talk to him. But don't let old rivalries get between you and doing your job," she hissed. "We wait. Send an owl to Ron, and tell him that we've apprehended the suspect but his guilt is unclear, and we are holding him for information. Do not tell him who the suspect is, under any circumstances. Ron will push the Act, and he will AK him."

                "I would too if it were legal," Harry muttered under his breath. She shot him a look that rivaled Cho at her most vindictive. "I'm sorry, 'Mione. I'm being an idiot. But I can't talk to him. Not now. Will you bring him some food or something and try to get information out of him? And ask him about the-"

                "Veritaserum," she finished for him. "Yeah, I'll do it." She smiled warmly at him, and kissed him on the cheek. "Go send the owl to Ron, and for God's sake, cool off." He walked off, a pale attempt at a smile glued to his features.

~*~

"Here." Hermione leaned over the side of the bed, placing a tray on the small wooden nightstand. It contained a silver cup full of cool pumpkin juice, a Chocolate Frog, and several pumpkin patties. 

                Draco made no movement or sound. He sat, unmoving, eyes hollow and unfeeling as steel, set in a perfect wall of indifference to vainly try to bury the desperate grief and longing he felt. Hermione was slightly nervous looking into those lifeless orbs. The account of his recent experiences had sent the blood coursing through her veins in anger. Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson had found love together, something neither could have found alone before they knew each other. Then viciously torn apart by the one person every boy should be able to wholly trust and count on; his father. She looked at him, and could feel the tension emanating from him; a cold wave of fury and anguish.

                He wanted nothing more or less that to make the days fly by; to will time to speed up; hastening his escape from the pathetic excuse of an existence that circumstance and genetic disposition had hurled him into. This emotion transcended even his carefully erected wall of indifference. The pain seeped out of every crevice in his body, but Draco Malfoy was trained not to feel grief, and he was damned if his trained behaviour would give out on him now, in the presence of his biggest rival, whom he had already revealed too much. Better go to Azkaban, and die, than stay free and have to live knowing that the life he possessed was not really his, but rightfully his beautiful Pansy's; that mere chance had placed it into his own hands.

                Separate, they had been ordinary, cruel people, brought up in families where malice and vengeance had taught them all they knew. When they had opened up to each other, and found the connection blossoming there, they became new people. Together, they were superior; torn out of reality by their love and hovering blissfully above the ground where the mere mortals crawled. He could never throw away the precious gift of her life. He now realized, in the cold of that darkened, bland cell, that the only thing he could to love Pansy and to keep her memory alive was to use her final gift to him, and learn to live again. The reality of it was staggering.

                Hemione felt like a horrible intruder. She watched this whole inner epiphany with anxious fascination. He had been through so much, was so vulnerable, and she felt as if she was exposing it for everyone to see. She let out a breath she hadn't known was being held when she observed the raising of his chin and stiffening of broad shoulders. He deserved this life, and she saw the resolve in him to use it. If anyone could regain their sense of living and pick up the shattered pieces of their existence, it was Draco Malfoy. 

                "Aren't you going to eat something?" she asked softly, sitting down onto the crude wooden chair on the opposite side of the cell. "Harry wants to send you to Azkaban, you know, if you don't submit to the Veritaserum."

                "I will not have my secrets spilled out to the world, and I would certainly not put the submission of my entire mind under the hands of Harry Potter! You know he would abuse that right."

                "But Ron hates you. Are you forgetting who he is? The Minister of Wizarding Justice has the right to put you in Azkaban for the rest of your life! And he is desperately trying to reinstate the Emergency Measures Act from 25 years ago. The Act that allows Aurors to use the Unforgiveables. And Harry would not hesitate in AK-ing you." Draco sneered.

                "Why are _you_ playing the Devil's Advocate, Granger? Going for Saint-ship, are we? Did Harry put you up to this? It's a bloody tactic, is what it is! I have my pride too, Granger, and I am not putting it on the line because of biased law enforcement." Her eyes flashed, and Draco saw first-hand why she made such a good Auror. But Draco Malfoy didn't submit to just anyone's glare. He shot back at her with a ferocity that made her eyes blink and widen. 

                "I am trying to get as much information out of you as possible, if you wish me to be frank. And, obviously you wouldn't be of much help to us dead. Or in Azkaban, for that matter. You would probably refuse to see us. Although refusing wouldn't help much, and we could always use the Veritaserum there. And then the press would be free to chew on your remains. If you co-operate with us here, though, we won't be able to leak anything to the press. What do you say Ferret?" She grinned nastily, and put out her hand. 

                Draco sighed, and rolled his eyes up to the sky, silently asking for strength from whatever was out there, and clasped Hermione's hand. The smile disappeared from Hermione's face as she met Draco's eyes. His hand was warm, and it spread all through her body. She hastily shook it and dropped her eyes to the ground, pulling away. "Enjoy your meal," she said, and was gone. Draco sat with his head in his hands, white-blonde hair falling down in front of his face, wondering what on earth had just happened.

~*~

Remus Lupin walked through the door of the vibrant, colourful shop in Diagon Alley. Inside was even more colourful; small explosions went off every moment, in every part of the shop. Mahogany shelves contained countless, shiny, new products, ready to be sold. On the back wall of the shop, prominently displayed in large red letters, the borrowed manifesto flashed at every customer; 'I solemnly swear I am up to no good'. Remus gave a small chuckle as he saw it, and held the door open for the large black lab at his heels. A tall, handsome redhead greeted them from the counter.

                "Prof- Remus! Would you mind taking the bloody dog outside, we don't-" At a raise of eyebrows from Remus, his face changed into a mask of comprehension and a hint of conspiracy. "Oh, right then. I have your- ah- order. Just go in back, and I'll meet you in a couple of minutes." Fred Weasley looked coyly at the pretty blonde waiting to be served. 

                "Can I help you?" Remus heard Fred say seductively. He rolled his eyes. He went behind the curtain with the carefully placed Anti-hearing spells and a Polyjuice Protector (one of Remus' additions) to the rear of the shop, which was coincidentally a headquarters for a group of wizards commonly known as the Rebels; wizards who had previously been exiled, in disrepute, or, in Sirius' case, under investigation, and were working constantly for Ron Weasley in secret, forming his own private intel operation. 

                He sat down at a round table, plain wood, with several large, black leather armchairs placed around it. Candles floated around the room, two placed above each armchair, and some standing on top of the table. Once inside, Sirius transformed and then sat down at his place, beside Remus. There were 12 spots at the table- for Remus, Sirius, Albus Dumbledore, Fred, George, Harry, Hermione, Ron, Snape, Arabella and Mundungus. There was also a spot reserved for Justin Finch-Fletchley, but he had been killed by a Death Eater 2 months before, and his place had not yet been filled.

                Slowly, the seats around the table began to be filled. Snape was the next to come, giving a nod to Sirius and Remus as he sat down. They were now on more amiable terms, although a friendship had never blossomed between them. Mundungus and Arabella arrived together, followed by Dumbledore, pretending to want to inspect the back of the shop for any illegal joke equipment. Finally, the Weasley brothers came in together, and the council began. 

                Casual conversation started, for it was unusual for the Rebels to meet in normal circumstances. The less they saw of each other in public the better, for it would rouse suspicion. Families were inquired after, businesses were talked of, love lives were discussed, and the Hogwarts crowd reminisced about the times they had spent in its comforting, stone walls. Finally, though, they got down to their purpose.

                Ron started up the meeting. "Right, the last time Remus, Sirius and I talked, we had got wind of some troubling news about a Ministry Owl carrying a cryptic Death Eater code into the Paper and Pulp of Munich building. The building being, of course, the false front for our Ministry. The problem is that a Ministry Owl carrying a Death Eater message towards our building suggests a Death Eater mole right inside the Ministry. Sirius, Ron, did you do the background checks?"

                "Ah, Mr. Weasley, before Remus gets to his findings, I have the results of the cryptic code analysis, and I am going to read the letter to everyone." Snape's cold voice pierced the air. He coughed slightly, and opened his mouth to read. "The package has been sent to Albania. It is still alive. May Nagini have a good meal. Bring her as soon as you can, to Albania. Avery." He looked up. "That is all. There was a lot of rubbish words in between, but that's what it boils down to in the end, once I've weeded out the bullshit. Nagini is Voldemort's snake. I think we can assume that the package is Fudge. Sorry Remus, carry on." 

                Remus brought out a sheaf of documents. "Everyone is clean, Ron. There is no blatant sign of Dark Wizardry anywhere. But we have picked up some subtleties. Not only did we look at previous employment, or criminal records, we looked at bank accounts- by the way we'll need 2000 galleons for bribing the Gringotts Goblins- and traveling. All Ministry wizards are required to have a spell placed on their wands recording every spell they perform. Someone in the Ministry has taken 6 trips to Albania within the past year, and it's not just some janitor, Ron. It's much worse."

                "Who the bloody hell is it, Remus? Get on with it!" Ron was impatient and anxious, and it showed plainly on his face. His freckles, faded with age, stood out abominably on his face, red hair more pronounced from the paleness of his face. Even bathed in the soft candlelight, he was deathly white.

                "It's Ludlow, Ron. Mortimer Ludlow. The Minister for Magic."


	5. Angels' Kisses

The Distance to Here: Chapter 5  
  
A/N: Hey everyone! This chapter is really short, but kind of light, and there's some romance-y hints.ooh intrigue. We are currently listening to really depressing music, which is SO good. Overcome, by Live, Turn My Head, by, uh, Live, and Nobody Knows, by, you guessed it, Live. So listen and read, folks, listen and read. Thanks to Aelora for tuning us into Live, and remember to review! Nobody leaves us any CC anyway, so we don't care anymore.  
Ron was sitting at his desk, watching the Muggles scurrying around in the pouring rain, rapidly unfolding multi-coloured umbrellas or ducking into shops to protect themselves against what was rapidly becoming a torrential downpour. He had never hated Muggles, or even disliked them, but today he couldn't help but be amused at their ignorance. They went about their busy, insignificant little lives, unaware of the problems that plagued the Wizarding world, of the Dark Lord well on his way to total power.  
  
Ludlow. Voldemort's key to the Ministry. Suddenly, everything made sense. His insistence that background checks were unnecessary. His independence, all of the lucrative and important business that only he knew about, and only he could undertake. His non-existent background, the fact that he had sprung out of the ground into absolute power over Britain's Magical world. It all added up to a shady character, and Ron was furious that he hadn't seen it before.  
  
As if in answer to his thoughts, Ludlow opened the oak door to Ron's office. Speak of the Devil, Ron thought, and gave a grimace when he realized just how true that was. "Hope I'm not interrupting anything, my boy?" Ludlow didn't wait for an answer. "I just wanted to ask you something that one of my secretaries informed me of this morning. Apparently, someone has been doing unauthorized background checks on Ministry employees. Now," he said conversationally, "I know that everyone has their own secret informants-" here he gave a roguish, conspiratorial wink- "but I specifically told you that background checks were forbidden, and unnecessary. Unless you disagree with me for some reason?" Ludlow's eyebrows shot up. "There isn't a reason, is there Weasle-y?" Ludlow had put a slight on 'weasel'. Most people would not catch the subtle change in tone, but Ron had been around Mortimer enough to notice his hints.  
  
Ron forced his eyes wide and innocent. "No Mortimer. I just wanted to make sure for myself. If I had listened to you, I would have saved my informants a lot of time and money. All reports came back clean."  
  
Mortimer guffawed, and wiped a tear from his eye. "One day, m'boy, you'll realize that your Uncle Mortimer always knows best." He tapped his nose knowingly, winked, and walked out of the office, whistling the tune to "Pop Goes the 'Weasel'". Ron went slightly white at this, catching once again the emphasis on the word 'weasel'.  
  
~*~  
  
Ginny walked into the safe house in Fulham and cautiously looked around for Harry. It wouldn't do for the security guards to see a known Death Eater skulking about the place. She found him hunched over a desk in a dark, dank room at the back of the safe house. Her eyes were wide and staring. She had always wondered at this place. It reminded her of her own life, with it's neat prim outside, but coarse and unfinished on the inside.  
  
"Gin?" Harry's eyes lit up, but he didn't know it. He did notice the light in her eyes, though, that permanent glow she seemed to exude. It shone through the copper of her hair, through her translucent skin, and through the tiny little freckles that she always called angels' kisses. He could believe that dozens of tiny little angels had kissed her delicate face. She looked melancholy though. She always did, now. Being a Death Eater was taking its toll.  
  
"Harry!" For a moment, that melancholy aura she exuded disappeared, leaving warm glow in its place. But only for a moment. "I just came to see yo- the Death Eater. Who is it?" Harry sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. Her breath caught in her throat, but he didn't notice it.  
  
"I think you'd better see for yourself. This way." He put his broad hand on the small of her back to guide her down the hallway. She stiffened under his touch, but imperceptibly, the way a Death Eater would under the threat of death. So all this preparation was finally good for something, she thought dryly.  
  
"So, you know Malfoy from your training, right? Have you seen him lately?" Harry scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.  
  
"I was his mentor before he took the tests. It was a tad bizarre, him being older and had a far bigger history of Dark Arts than I did. I mean, my father was in Muggle Studies for God's sake. We developed an amiable relationship of sorts. Of course, he likes Ginny the Death Eater, not the Real Ginny. Why do you ask?" Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. Harry felt vulnerable under her piercing gaze.  
  
"Um, no reason, I just wanted to know more about him, that's all. I had wondered what he might be getting up to, you know, because another Malfoy on the loose, is you know, bad, and since he went missing and all, that's.also bad."  
  
"Right." They continued walking in silence until they reached the end of the corridor and the large metal door with the tiny glass window in the centre.  
  
"Well. Here we are. Now, all we have to do is open the door, and you'll be able to see him. Or, er, her," Harry said, shifting his eyes back and forth, and rubbing the back of his neck again.  
  
"Bloody hell Harry, why are you acting like a lamb going to slaughter?"  
  
"Well, uh, you'll uh," Harry stammered, and performed a spell on the door, which proceeded to creakily swing open. 


	6. Witty Banter

The Distance to Here

**Chapter 6**

****

**A/N:**** Hi everyone, sorry about the delay! I should stop saying that, there's a delay every time we write a chapter so, I guess this is the pace that we update at! I was inspired to write by, once again, boredom, over the March Break. I hope you like this chapter, there will be some Hr/D (whoohoo) and also some H/G so enjoy! I know the romance is going slow, but the plot is complicated and we still don't know how the ending is exactly going to go. The story has no middle, as of yet, but we know how the romances are going to play out! Oh, and there will be no smut, or long describe-y kissy-smooch scenes, because we don't write smut. Go watch porn if you really need it described. Don't forget to press the purty button that says review at the bottom. Oh, and this is also our longest chapter yet, I believe.**

Ginny opened the door of the cell. She recognized the pale hair and piercing eyes at once. He looked gaunt and ragged, not at all his normal composed self. He was lying on his cot, feet dangling over the edge, staring at the ceiling with a slight frown on his face. He looked like he was counting the ceiling blocks. She took all this in in a moment, before crying out his name and running the short distance between the door and his tiny cot. 

                He jumped up at once, startled out of his concentration, and accepted the massive hug she was giving him, patting her soft head of hair awkwardly, while trying to dislodge himself from her death-grip. Needless to say, Draco was not a 'hugging person', having never grown up in that sort of environment.

                "Ginny…they caught you too? That brother of yours, I should have killed him when I had the chance…Yes, Potter? Why don't you leave us to catch up for a while before the interrogations begin?" Harry started to laugh hysterically before he could stop himself. To hell with keeping his emotions locked up; getting one up on Malfoy was too precious _not_ to gloat over. 

                "Caught you, didn't we, Malfoy? Ginny is working for us, and has been since she started her training with your father. We've had a mole in your circle for quite some time; she just wanted to see the latest mouse the cat dragged in. You really believed her act?" Harry looked impressed, Ginny slightly embarrassed, and Malfoy sat in his cot staring at Harry and blinking like an albino owl. 

                He spluttered for a few minutes, trying to get the words out. "I- but you-" He finally took a deep breath. "Is that true? Are you really working for _him_?" 

                "Yes. But I never hated you, Malfoy. I never pretended to like you. I had always wondered whether or not you really wanted to be a Death Eater, your heart never was in it." She sighed, looking around the room, agitated. "But now I need you to listen. I have some very important information to give you both. It involves you, Malfoy, and your father, and Lor- Voldemort."

                "What did I miss? Oh, Ginny!" Hermione smiled warmly at her friend. Ginny was so strong and brave, and Hermione admired her greatly, young as she was. "I see you've met our little friend here," she said, not unkindly. Harry sensed the note of apathy, even friendliness in her voice and glanced at her sharply. "What?"

                "Nothing," he said. "Right Gin, let's hear it, out with it now!"

                "Well, I went to the meeting the other night, and Voldemort gave me an assignment." She turned pointedly to Draco now, and began speaking directly to him, desperate to lessen the mistrust in his eyes. She had lied to him for so long, why would he listen to her now? She willed him to believe her. "Your father, and Voldemort both think that you are going to go pointedly to my brother and the Ministry; to give them information. They- want someone to dispose of you. Me. I was obligated to say yes to him. What else would I say, after all, but you being here makes it easier." She turned to Harry and Hermione now. "We have to keep his capture under wraps. If the public finds out, then the Death Eaters will be aware and I'll have to kill him for real. We can bide time; I'll pretend I'm searching for him. But this makes our job more difficult, because we have to do some serious damage to Voldemort and weaken him in a very short period of time. I will _not_ hand him over to the Death Eaters," she said firmly, seeing Harry about to open his mouth. "I have seen first-hand the cruelty they use for traitors, and I will not facilitate it. I did this to save lives, not take them." Discussion ended, she stood up and walked briskly to the threshold of the cell. With a whispered, "I'm sorry"  to Draco, she left the room. Harry followed immediately, seeing the distress in her eyes.

                Only Hermione and Draco remained in the room. He chuckled, a dry humourless chuckle. "So are St. Potter and the Mole 'involved'? He follows her around like a sick little puppy."

                "I thought you had it in your head that he was involved with me," she retorted, although she felt a slight glow at his mentioning Harry and Ginny's mutual attraction. She had known it was only a matter of time before Harry realized what he was missing, and how little he really had. Hermione was glad that she wasn't the only person noticing Harry's doting attitude.

                "I did, until I saw _them_. How long have they been together?"

                "A little starved for entertainment, are we, Draco? Need some _drama _in your life? Well, here it is. They're not. Together, I mean. Harry's engaged to Cho. Although…"

                "Although what?" Draco was interested now, leaning into her. Draco was a shrewd observer of human behaviour. New subjects pleased him to no end, even Potter. He was observing Hermione now, as she talked about Cho's lack of understanding, and Harry's aggravating optimism. He was looking at her eyes, large vats of liquid chocolate, swirling with emotion, flashing with anger at Cho's stupidity, sympathy for Harry, and anticipation of Harry and Ginny's imminent romance. They were pretty, with flecks of gold and black in them,  unified colour from far away, but so subtle in its different tones close up that they looked like a Monet painting from close up. He stopped staring as he realized just how close up he was.

                "See something you like?" she asked, smirking slightly. Her lips were full, of colour and expression. 

                "You wish, Granger," he said, smirking back identically, but she thought she saw a hint of embarrassment in his eyes as he turned away. 

                Now it was her turn to observe him. In the years since she'd last seen him his face had become sharp and mature. His eyes reflected all the heinous things he'd seen committed it his lifetime. The eyes themselves were still as stony as ever, still the colour of an overcast sky. His tall, slim figure, he was easily six foot three, was sprawled carelessly on his cot. His muscles were always tense in anticipation of conflict. He's very cat-like, Hermione thought. Her eyes drifted back to his face. Malfoy's nose was perfectly straight. His chin was stubborn, synonymous with his personality. His hair looked like a halo, the colour was golden, darkening as time went on. All in all, Hermione thought, bemused,  he's quite sexy.  There was no repercussion for that thought. No reproach for what she felt. Eye-candy was eye-candy. Her attraction to him was physical, and it happened with lots of people. She had no reason to believe that this time would be different.

                Although, she decided, he was magnetic. He hadn't always been. Those years after school must have been hard. Something about him made her want to care. She knew how trying Death Eater training could be. Ginny had been dealing with it since before she graduated from Hogwarts. She would stay up nights, haunted by a vision of reddened eyes and forked tongue. Scared forever of being discovered and tortured until her will could not contain the information stored within her. More of the pain, she was afraid of betraying the people she held closest to her.

                "What are you thinking about?"

                "Hmph?" she said, blinking and turning to face him, only to find that she had been staring unseeing at him the whole time.

                "You were staring at my, ah, southern area and frowning. Pondering if reputation has been exaggerated? Or rather, underrated?" The arrogant smirk had been replaced by a look of innocent curiosity.

                "Er…I was thinking about Ginny. I uh, got distracted-"

                "I don't blame you," he cut in mildly. "I would be distracted too…" He glanced southwards; raising his eyebrows, face a mask of awe, confirming her suspicions about his narcissism.

                Hermione rolled her eyes heavenward, but to her aggravation, a small smile escaped her lips, not going unnoticed by Draco. "Bugger off," she said absently. Standing up, she turned to go, but he blocked her way. Aware of his proximity, and uncomfortable not only because of his criminal record- although she was not aware of the latter- she cast her eyes down.

                "Er…" he stated thickly, trying to find the words. She looked like a wilted flower in autumn, with her eyelashes fluttering like that. "Could you, bring me some food?" he asked, trying to inject a tone of obviousness into his voice. "The way you feed me, I could probably gain some weight by going to Azkaban."

                She looked embarrassed, he noticed. Well, Granger was always trying to seem like the angel of goodness and charity. It was nothing of consequence.

                She wordlessly conjured up a plate of bangers and mash, stepped around him nimbly, smiled a goodbye and closed the door behind her.

~*~

                Harry followed Ginny down the corridor, Draco's arrogant drawls fading away. God knows what the two of them could find to talk about. His arrogance, her sweet, almost innocent demeanor made no easy match.

                "Ginny…" he trailed off as she turned around to him. Her eyes were brimming with unshed tears.

                "Oh god, Harry," she cried and ran towards him. For a moment all sexual tension was forgotten and then buried her face in his chest. "I try to be strong, emotionless. But when I think what they would have done to him, what YOU would have done to him, I just-" The tears came silent and swift, and were over in mere minutes. "I'm sorry. It's just, he was civil, likeable even when I talked to him. And the way he was treated…I know Malfoy's not some spring chicken, Harry-don't give me that look- but it was not all his fault. I'm sorry, look at your shirt!"

                Harry didn't give a damn about his shirt. "So you're not-" He made a vague gesture with his hand that gave her the meaning.

                "No! I was his mentor for Christ's sakes! Don't you think that Voldemort would have found out? Don't you think he would have forbidden it? Love ties everyone together in the strongest bonds, Harry. Anything that is competition for Voldemort is forbidden, including love." She narrowed her eyes. "But why would you care about Draco and I? You have your own little fiancée waiting for you at the Ministry," she said calculatingly.

                Harry sighed, and ran his hand through his straight black hair. "No," he said, simply. "We decided to take some time away from each other to- sort out our differences."

                "Oh," Ginny was floored. "Well, I'd better get going. I have to talk to Ron." Her lips brushed his in a kiss goodbye, but the meaning behind it was much more than that. And then she was gone, flying away in graceful, featherweight owl-form, copper wings beating powerfully. Harry stood watching her disappear into the horizon for many moments, eyes wide, hand going through his hair repeatedly. He didn't even notice Hermione standing in the doorway, watching this whole exchange with a sense of happiness a long time coming.


	7. Fiery Barn Owls

**The Distance to Here:**

**Chapter 7**

****

**A/N:****Hi everybody! For once we're updated within a week of our last post! Oh WOW! (sorry, inside joke, you have to say it in a funny voice). Well I really have to pee, but this is a plot point so just read it and don't forget to review. By the way, the review with the quote that described a line of ours that was, "sheer brilliance" was so ego-boosting my head almost exploded. THANK YOU!****à**** That was written about a week ago. Oops. So maybe we take long to update. Enjoy! Oh, I have a quote I wanted to put in, because it sounds cool. **

**"When you strip away all the impossible, whatever is left, however improbable, must be the truth."**

- **I don't know**

**~*~**

                Ginny soared through an open window on the top floor of the Pulp and Paper of Munich factory, known as the Ministry of Magic to witches and wizards. She landed on a black leather chair in Ron's office. Ron hadn't noticed her come in so he jerked his head up, startled. 

                "Is something wrong, Ginny? You look pale," he acknowledged, once she had changed back into her human form. Her hair was ruffled and out of place, and she was indeed pale. 

                "I have something to tell you, but you have to promise not to pull a nervy-b on me. Really, Ron, you're going to be upset but you can't just run off and kill someone."

                Ron laughed, but stopped abruptly when he saw the seriousness in her eyes. "Ok, what is this about?" 

                "Sit down." Ron was starting to feel nervous. It wasn't like his sister to be so melodramatic, he had to assume that this matter held at least some importance to her personally, and not just for business. "Well, I went to see the Death Eater in isolation in order to identify him, and it turns out- now, Ron, stay calm- it's Malfoy," Ginny finished in a whisper. 

                Ron's face was completely white and tight with suppressed anger, but he didn't speak. 

                "There's more. Draco is not a Death Eater. He was in training. He had performed the first two curses, and was going to perform the third. Except he was ordered to kill his girlfriend. Pansy. Lucius was supervising. Draco refused. He wasn't initiated. And Lucius killed Pansy."

                "So what? Gin, he's Draco Malfoy! He doesn't deserve my sympathy. This is perfect. It's much easier than I thought it would be. Just kill Draco and bring his body to Voldemort. Boom. He thinks you're loyal and we get rid of one more scumball littering the Wizarding World."

                "It's not that easy Ron. I can't kill someone in cold blood who I am now convinced is innocent. He's a prisoner with no wand, for God's sake! I would feel bad killing him in a duel, let alone AK-ing him in his little holding cell!" She was shouting now. "I can't believe you would ask me to do that! Whatever your opinion of me, I have nothing against that man. In fact he had become one of my closest friends!"

                Ron stared at her open-mouthed. He had had no idea of their- friendship. Ugh. Just thinking of the word made him sick to his stomach. He couldn't manage to splutter a reply to that, although he made several gallant tries, eyes popping. 

                "Have you thought about what I have had to go through these past years? Gaining all of their trust, wondering every moment if he would turn on me and discover my secrets! It was almost more than I could bear, being there all of those hours, pushing away my closest friends for fear of their safety…he was my only refuge there. A link with sanity." 

                All of Ron's rage was slowly ebbing away. He was an older brother foremost, a Minister secondarily. He had asked so much of her, her time, her safety, her whole life was dedicated to this one task that he had asked of her. He could not ask her to kill Draco, much as he hated the man. Nor could he set up a trial for Draco publicly; for fear of the consequences at Ginny's failure becoming Ron's success. And he might become suspicious. No, the matter of Draco Malfoy would have to wait for a while, another bottle whose cap was to be screwed up tight and filed away at the back of a long line of problems. Ron was edging towards breaking point. Just as he was reaching out to comfort his sister, he heard the loud, dull footsteps of a confident strut on carpet. 

                Ludlow strode into Ron's office and boomed, "Ron, my boy, who are you talking to? Not to imaginary friends, I hope," he said with a guffaw. Ron smiled tightly and his eyes darted over to the leather chair where a bright red barn owl was now sitting and preening herself. Ludlow caught the nervous glance and walked over to the chair and attempted to pat the owl on the head. Ginny turned her head and snapped her beak at his fingers. Ludlow pulled his hand back quickly, while Ginny ruffled her feathers agitatedly. 

                "A very beautiful bird you have there, Weasley! The breeding is excellent, and rarely have I seen such intelligent eyes on an owl, nor such vibrantly red feathers. Did you dye her to match you Ron? You have the same hair colour!" This was followed by another guffaw. "But where on earth did you _find_ her Weasley? Not in the Owl Emporium, no, much too cheap. Where did you get her?" He narrowed his eyes a mere notch, almost imperceptibly. It was evident that he was trying to trap the spider in its own web, so to speak. 

                "I had it imported from Canada, they have a rare bird museum on Manitoulin Island in Ontario. Quite fascinating really, have you been?" Ron was quite proud of himself, really. He had lied smoothly, effectively and had diverted the conversation to the relatively bland subject of birds.

                "Ah, no. I have much more important things to do than go gallivanting around the world looking for a messenger bird that matches my hair! That being said, I am inconveniently short of an owl as of right now, and I need to send an important message to Bulgaria. Might I borrow your beautiful bird? What did you say her name was?"

                "Pig," Ron spat out. Damn. Ludlow was quick. "Pig-er- Junior. It's her, daughter."

                "Wasn't Pig a male dwarf owl?"

                "Well, yes, but Pig sort of adopted- er- Pig, before he died."      

                "Right. Well, may I?" Without waiting for an answer, Ludlow made his way across the room to retrieve Ginny. Just before he reached her, she spread out her wings, gave a squawk, and soared through the open window, leaving her mark and a clear opinion of Mr. Ludlow on the spotless leather of the couch. 

                Ron bit back a laugh. Ginny was hilarious, in an uncouth sort of way. But maybe it was her owl sense brought out in her. He quickly mopped up the mess and turned to apologize to Ludlow. "Mortimer, I'm so sorry. She hasn't really been trained. I'm notoriously bad at choosing obedient owls." He smiled, remembering Pig whooshing around his cage like a mad thing. Ludlow smiled thinly, but it didn't reach his smouldering eyes. He turned and left the office, banging the door behind him. Ron sighed, sat down at his desk and pulled out the bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey, which he kept for stressful occasions. Today he had earned two glasses.

~*~

                Ginny flew into the safe house and quickly changed back into her human form. She rushed around, trying to find Harry, or anyone who could help. It was imperative that they leave the safe house immediately. Ginny wasn't sure how much Ludlow had heard of her and Ron's conversation and it was very likely Ludlow had her followed back to the safe house. She veered in the direction of Malfoy's cell when she heard the sound of Hermione's laughter. Opening the door, she found, not Harry and Hermione sharing a laugh at Draco's expense, but Draco and Hermione, both sitting on the cot, Draco red, but smiling grudgingly, and Hermione gasping between outbursts of hilarity. 

                Ginny coughed, none too subtley and they both stood up. "Where's Harry?" she demanded. Draco smirked.

                "Hello to you too. Can't even spare a moment for your dear old friends before running off to your lover boy?"

                "Fuck you Malfoy. Hermione, where is he?" Hermione looked hesitant and a little aggravated at the reply.

                "With Cho," she said disgustedly. "He's trying to patch things up. God knows why-" she wanted to continue, but knew it would only hurt Ginny more.

                "Oh well, then. You two have to go alone then. I already talked to Ron. He wants to kill Malfoy, so you two need to go to Ireland. It's out of the reach of the British Ministry. You need to go undercover as Muggle tourists. That means completely Muggle. You are to leave your wand here. I'll keep them safe. And no funny business, Draco. If you try to escape we'll hunt you down and kill you for real. It would save me a lot of trouble. You're going undercover because I don't know the extent of the support for Voldemort in Ireland. Harry was supposed to come too, but since he's not here it will work better. Be more inconspicuous."

Ginny packed up some things for both of them. She left them only with a small bit of Floo Powder and a tiny dwarf owl as their links to the Wizarding World. She told them to owl where they were staying so that the nearest fireplace could be linked up to the Floo network. It would serve as a very desperate escape attempt, and only that. She stressed very much that their only hope of safety was complete inconspicuous behaviour, since Hermione's wand would be all the way in London if they needed it. Ginny didn't say as much, but part of the reason why she was taking away 'Mione's wand was because she still didn't trust Draco entirely. She hugged Hermione and gave a shy sort of smile that begged forgiveness to Draco before Apparating them into the bustling centre of Dublin.

"Well, isn't this just a happy little bonding experience," Draco sneered. But somewhere deep inside him, he wasn't sneering.


	8. The Dancing Leprechaun

The Distance to Here

Chapter 8

**A/N****: Hey you guys! Glad to see you joined us again. We updated pretty soon. There is a discussion in this chapter that I ironically thought of while in church. Ha. Thank you for all your support. It makes us feel so loved. You are all wonderful and enlarge our heads on a regular basis. Thank you, and here is a very _important_ chapter, if ya know what I mean…**

                "Well, there you are," The plump, jovial woman beamed at Draco and Hermione. The tall, too-skinny, pubescent boy put down their suitcases and stalked off. "Oh, it's so wonderful tae have a nice young couple like you two in here. It almost makes me feel young again!" she sighed wistfully and her wide frame disappeared into the hallway.

                They were standing in a disgustingly flowery room. Wanting to keep a low profile, they had checked into a small, family-owned Bed and Breakfast, and were already regretting it. Exchanging a look, they both took in their surroundings. The room was decorated entirely in varying shades of pink and purple, covered with flower patterns of varying shades of pink. Hermione didn't think she'd seen more white lace doilies at once in her life before. It was almost surreal. The solitary bed was a very beautiful four-poster, enormous, with a canopy. The frame was made of a finished cherry-wood, the sheets and quilt, of course, pink and flowery. 

                "Wow," Draco said simply, expressing everything Hermione was feeling. He smiled at her wide eyes and slightly open mouth. 

                "What?" Hermione asked, looking at him. "You know, that's the first time I've ever seen you really smile since I first saw you at the bar."

                "Too bad I don't remember anything about that particular night. Actually, a lot of nights from that time are kind of blurred. They almost seem to melt into one another."

                "Well, that's what happens when you're completely and utterly pissed."

                "And how would _you_ know, Miss Granger? I bet you've never touched a drink in your life!" He almost refused himself to believe that she had, knowing that it would throw off the 'Saint Granger' picture of her that had been repelling him. He knew that she was unattainable, without the faults of normal people. Changing that fact would alter their relationship forever. Knowing she could sympathize, relate to his lowly problems. He was afraid of her next words.

                "Well, I don't think I can remember being completely _drunk_, but there were a couple of parties in seventh year at Hogsmeade when I had had a few too many Butterbeers."

                He relaxed. So she was an innocent. She held her lofty perch in his mind, and the barriers of her perfection held firm. "You mean to tell me that a Butterbeer is the hardest liquor you've ever tasted?" He slightly chuckled, half-grimacing at her naiveté.  And then he made his fatal mistake. "Well, we're going to have to go and change that. Change into something nice." And not even waiting for a response, he grabbed his bag and went to the washroom, presumably to freshen up. 

                Hermione sighed. What was she getting herself into? She was a bit apprehensive about going out into the town, mainly because she would be with the highly unpredictable Draco Malfoy, who was confusing her to no end. Right now he seemed warm, friendly even, but with that same forceful edge that he had always had. His whole aura exuded power, even when he was putting a noticeable effort into being amiable. He was giving her no option to question or deny him. She looked into her bag, and rolled her eyes at the contents. It appeared that Ginny was playing matchmaker, or at least was trying to take advantage of their obvious attraction for one another. She slipped on the short, black, spaghetti-strap dress Ginny had so subtly placed on top of the pile of clothes. 

                Draco walked out of the bathroom, and as he looked at her, she saw his eyes betray a ray of surprise before his traditional mask that she was becoming to know so well appeared. She had started to figure him out. Her Auror's instinct was always observing, calculating, and judging. Whenever his emotions were not either cold anger or power-hungry satisfaction, he had an instinctive mask of indifference that was more often than not indecipherable. But she had learned to look for that split second before the mask to figure out that feeling. Now all she had to do to extract the person beneath and she would have him in her palm. Draco could be the key to Voldemort's demise, and plus, spending all this time with an empty shell was infuriating. 

                "I'm going to just freshen up," she said, pushing past him into the bathroom, their arms brushing. She washed her face, and put on her make-up, choosing to leave her hair down in loose ringlets. Coming out of the bathroom, she paused dramatically against the doorway, laughing. He was standing, looking dashingly handsome in a dark gray shirt, which made his eyes look lighter, and silver. Wow, she thought. At her laugh he had looked up, and now he gave a half-smile of approval. 

                "You look nice," he said, which was as much of a compliment as she was like to get out of him this early in the game. It hadn't slipped either of their minds that they would have to play-act tonight, that they were going to have to pretend to be a happy couple, and do it passably. It seemed that they would be forced to behave affectionately, whether the feelings were there or not.  

                And so they went to dinner. They sat across from each other, eyes shifting slightly, imperceptibly and identically, only one was trained to catch Dark Wizards and one had been trained as one. Noticing their awkward behaviour around one another, and knowing that a Death Eater would be able to pick them out of a crowd, they needed to establish some comfort. 

                Draco took the first step, knowing that Hermione was too inexperienced to take charge. He smiled at her, a genuine smile, taking care to force a sparkle into his eyes, as he knew a smitten young man would do (it was not as hard as he thought it would be) and reached over to grasp her hand. She looked startled, though only for a split second. Her lips broke into a genuine smile, if a little relieved-looking. A tentative conversation began, and soon was developed into a full-fledged, opinionated discussion. 

                "I had always had suspicion, but I had never been able to find physical proof!" Hermione exclaimed. "That's fascinating! I was raised as a Catholic, but as soon as I became a witch, I sort of informally renounced it. I had always thought that there had to be some logical explanation for the miracles. Logic is always present."

                "Of course _you_ would say that," Draco said with a wry smile. " But honestly, I thought everyone knew that "Jesus Christ" was really a wizard. The reason they don't advertise it in the Wizarding World is because so many Muggles have died for his cause. A whole faith and belief has been founded on his actions, which were simple enough to perform with a wand, if you think about it. All the miracles of healing, and his death was really a fake. Why do you think he was able to 'rise from the dead' in three days? But all of the Catholics who died after him, all of the Muggle Catholics who were butchered for believing, you could say that he himself was responsible for Muggle genocide. And even today, half of the world is Catholic, it is quite possible that he could be considered the greatest wizard of all time."

                "How could you say that? He killed thousands, millions, through his actions. That's like comparing him to-" she faltered, breaking off. She had almost mentioned Voldemort, a serious mistake when there could be some of his supporters watching. She mentally reproached herself, for letting her natural curiosity take precedence over her job. Malfoy shrugged non-chalantly, dismissing the slip-up. 

                "I'm sick of this place. And we still have a score to settle. Come on."

                Again with the undeniable authority, she thought. But it was nice, for a change, to have someone with as much passion as her to discuss things with. She had gone on one or two dates, and had found all of them quite boring. Hermione found that too many men let up with her, preferring to give in to her opinions, rather than risk her disagreeing with her and ruining their chances to score. But now she had finally found her match in stubbornness and knowledge. Despite his reputation at school, Malfoy was one of the most intelligent people that she had ever met, including herself. And with his forceful attitude, he had no qualms about spitting out all of his knowledge to prove a point. Not that she would accept his point anyway, even when she knew that she was beaten, which had happened once or twice that night. No, apart from his past and his unpleasantness, she had thoroughly enjoyed his company that evening, and they were on much more amiable terms.

                He guided her out of the restaurant, and he gathered her to him, arm securely around her waist, whispering instructions in her ear. She laughed, giggled and batted him playfully on his commands, all the while keeping a joyous smile plastered across her face. They hadn't taught her _this_ in training. But there was something they had taught her that she could undoubtedly apply here; keeping her emotions in check. She was getting progressively more nervous and excited, obvious symptoms of attraction. And from where they were going, and his stubbornness, she wasn't at all sure that she would be able to control her inhibitions.

                They went to a place called "The Dancing Leprechaun" a happy, noisy pub full of middle-aged men watching football on tiny screens. They got a table in the corner, and went up together to order.

                "Two Sex on the Beach," Draco said. When the bartender turned around, Draco gave Hermione a roguish wink, in response to which she neither rolled her eyes nor looked away, but winked back, giggled and linked her arm through his. This was so unlike Hermione that he was momentarily reminded of a shimmery purple halter top and a certain cheap perfume, although he couldn't place these sights or sounds. 

                "Just playing along," she murmured, in response to his shocked look. Shit. He must have been showing it. They grabbed their drinks and sat down at the table, resuming their previous discussion.

                Hermione had never felt so relaxed in her life. Everything was great, just talking and laughing with a gorgeous guy. God, she was drunk. Even in her inebriated state she was coherent enough to dimly acknowledge that fact. And she was currently laughing like an idiot. Wow. Sex on the Beach was great. She laughed at that last thought, and its intended double entendre.

                Draco watched with amusement at the sprawling young woman before him. In the back of his mind, he felt guilty. He should have left her to her innocence, ignorant as it was. He was enlightening her to the many dark things that existed in the world, were actually a part of many people's every-day lives, but had never penetrated the halo that surrounded her. He was breaking apart her shield, and he could feel his shield crumbling too. Long had the making of the shield been, and it had strengthened over time, becoming all-encompassing. It was strange that through one night of intense debates and dimming halos, she should have such a large influence over him already. 

                "Alright, 'Mione, let's get you back to the B&B." He didn't even notice the sudden use of her nickname, although she did.

                "Why did you call me that? You called me 'Mione," she slurred. She looked up at him. "Your voice sounded different when you said it…"

                He smiled at her, slinging her arm around his shoulder. "Looks like our positions have been a little reversed, Missy."

                They made their way back to the  Bed and Breakfast, during which Draco heard more curses from Hermione than he had heard from most of the Death Eaters he had known. They knocked on the door, Hermione giggling insanely, and when Mrs. O'Connor, the landlady, opened the door, and tutted at them all the way up to their room, where she put fresh (flowery) towels on the armchair and left them. Hermione managed to change into her fluffy pajamas. Her hair floated around her face. Draco was washing up in the bathroom, she could hear the musical tinkling of the water and the splash of it on face. He gave a little gasp at the temperature that was audible to her. 

                What was she doing? In the past few hours she had completely let down her barriers. And he had as well. She was feeling guilty, and lost. In just one night, he had accepted and gotten to know all that she was, and then had taken her personality to the next level. Found out just what she was lacking within herself, where she felt vulnerable, and had turned it around. 

                Out he came, wearing a white wife-beater and gray flannel pants. She could see from her seat on the bed that he was fit, his shoulder muscles were taut and streamlined, and they were more than a little visible. She smiled at him as he came out, but it was a little half-hearted. All of a sudden she felt fake, all of the play-acting of the evening had left her with a sour taste in her mouth. She felt betrayed. But maybe it was the alcohol talking. 

                He looked at her, shaking her head, clearing her thoughts. He was a little tipsy too, and he knew it, although his cold, calculated attitude would not allow him to show it. He went and sat down on the bed beside her. 

                "Is something wrong?" he asked. He looked at her, and without knowing it, the wall, the solid barrier came down, and his concern shone free. 

                "No," she said, looking up into his eyes. They were such a pretty silver, she thought. Even her thoughts were slurred now. "Everything's perfect." And without warning to him, she leaned over and kissed him.

                His eyes widened in shock, but soon his body became independent from his clouded head. He leaned into her, pressing her softness against his taut muscles. He turned around, pressing her against the mattress. The kiss became deeper, and she more urgent. They were responding to each other. This was not joy, this was not love. It was a stretch for them to even say that they liked each other. This was pure need, sheer wanting. And now, he knew that if they went any further, she would regret it the next day, and he did not want to face the wrath of Hermione Granger, especially not when they were supposed to stay together all of the time. So he, gently as he could, broke away. 

                "We'd better sleep," he whispered. 

                She sat up, and wrapped her arms around her body. She was hurt, and drunk, and knew that she would have a huge hangover in the morning. And he had rejected her. She had cut herself loose, taken the first step, and had humiliated herself. She climbed into bed, burrowing herself under the quilt. 

                Draco knew better than to join her, and so he curled up on the pink carpet, hoping that she wouldn't remember tomorrow morning, or it would be a long day.


	9. The Aftermath

The Distance to Here

**Chapter 9: The Aftermath**

****

**A/N:**** So here is "the aftermath". Hmm, that's good name for a chapter… Good job Katy! Now you can _all_ feel like part of the creative process. Just to let you know, this chapter won't be completely Draco/Mione centric. Okies! Have fun reading, and remember, reviews are brain fuel. If you need any examples on what boosts the ego, check out the wonderful reader who quotes us. But any feedback is welcome! And it is considered the ONLY POLITE THING TO DO! And by the way, it's August, and we have decided to jump-start this fic. So have fun reading!**

~*~

                Draco slept fitfully that night, as Hermione had had to get up several times during the course of it. He could hear her retching, and almost felt as if he were doing it along with her. This was completely his fault. More than his guilt, he felt dread for the morning to come. Hermione was sharp as a hot bayonet through butter, and, come morning, he was fairly sure that he would be the butter. And her wit was such that she was unlikely to forget the incidents of the evening. Gryffindors were noble and honest, and Draco was damned if their pride wasn't as important to them as a Slytherin's. He finally drifted off, and dreamt of dairy products.

                Hermione was _angry._ To say the least. Red-hot rage coursed through her. It was like an adrenaline, and she could not sleep. She had gotten up four times, that night. _Four bloody times._ And it was all that bastard's fault. His fault for cozening her, bribing her, seducing her with those damnable gray eyes and impeccable fashion sense. For playing up to her at dinner, and making her believe that he was actually a person underneath that façade. But now she knew that his humanity was a façade too. He just did not know how to be himself. And she hated him for it. She didn't know how she could be so stupid. Oh right, she thought bitterly. It was because he had gotten her drunk that she had abandoned all her inhibitions long before they had left the cozy little pub, and given in to him the moment they found themselves alone. And he had first responded. Responded in a way that she knew was different. There had been an underlying passion there, she thought, that spanned drunkenness, and might have transferred over to real feeling, had he not slammed up his wall, pushed her away, and faded back into anonymity in her world. And now they would never know what lay between them, because she was damned if he would ever get close enough to her to touch her, let alone do what they were about to do on that bed.

                A little voice told her that perhaps he had done the right thing, perhaps he was the smart one, not wanting her to feel stupid or awkward in the morning, when coherence would bring humiliation. But for now she was content in her rage, in the blind hatred that the dark brought, and with that she fell asleep, nausea temporarily forgotten, and dreamt of silver and the palest gold.

~*~

                Harry was not actually having as bad a time as Hermione had anticipated. Cho had been remorseful and sweet, pleading for forgiveness. As expected, Harry had forgiven her. He knew that would draw a long sigh from Hermione. But to his credit, he had been adamant that they maintain their distance. When Cho had off-handedly mentioned the dinner for Ministry members in high places, Harry became aware of her underlying motives.

                "Alright, I'll go with you, but I still believe that you and I should go on hiatus for a while afterwards."

                Cho did not seem as perturbed about being apart from him as he had previously thought, but instead her eyes shoe and she became animated and giddy as when she was seventeen. "Oh Harry darling, thank you so much! Floo to my house for eight sharp, make sure you're not late! Oh, and wear your best dress robes."

                Harry smiled tiredly at her, kissed her on the cheek, and flew (he had always preferred flying to Apparating) home to his flat. Just before he launched out the window, Cho called to him, "And please try to tame your hair!"

                Harry lived in a luxury flat on top of Haradwaith's, a classy Wizarding restaurant in Diagon Alley. Contrary to what he had previously thought, Aurors made quite a bit of money. It was decorated with furniture made by the same wizard who had designed Gryffindor tower, and it was as comfortable, if not more, than his previous home at Hogwarts. At 7:30, with his hair tamed as much it allowed itself to be, Harry sat down on one of his squashy chairs by the fire, and waited.

                At first he was going to owl Hagrid, but then found he had nothing of consequence to say. So he decided to owl Ron, with the intention of making a confession about Malfoy. But he was unable to bring himself to do it, scared of the rift that it might have caused in their relationship, and also wanting to make his confession in person. So he played the coward. Then he thought of someone he badly wanted to owl. Someone with soft, flowing hair , whose skin was sprinkled with angel's kisses. But then common sense spat on his seedling idea. If the mail was intercepted, it would mean dire consequences for everyone involved. A little voice inside his head told him that he could write the letter in code, but he told the voice to shut up and mind its own business. He would really rather see her in person, too.

                Taking out his photo album, the pictures of Sirius and his parents now interspersed with pictures of himself and all of his friends, he began to flip through. All of his favourites were at the front. Most were of Harry, Ron and Hermione, at the Quidditch World Cup, at 12 Grimmauld Place, on the first day of Christmas holidays in sixth year when Remus and Sirius (in dog form) had shown up to Floo them away for two weeks. There was one picture of Cho and him on Halloween in his seventh year. It was the day they had put aside their differences and decided to try again, after the fiasco of fifth year. They both looked radiant, and were laughing and waving. But looking at it now, Harry noticed that Cho's eyes kept shifting away from the camera, looking at the Ravenclaw table. They also shifted, with a slightly jealous look, over to where Hermione and Ginny were chatting in the background. So she had been suspicious since the first. 

                Oh well, Harry thought, I expect we'll have time to sort out our differences. After all, I do love her. But as he put the powder in his fireplace, and the brilliant green flame went roaring up, Harry was reminded uncannily of a pair of green eyes, which shone and flickered as brilliantly as the flame.

**A/N: Hope you all enjoyed the comeback chapter. If you review this, it'll make us aware that people are still interested, and are still going to read and appreciate it. I have another half-chapter already written, and I have nothing to do this week, so maybe even two chapters will go up before then. I hope this chappie isn't too short for you guys, it's more of a tease, to test the response. **


	10. The InstaSmiles Parade

Chapter Ten

            Harry and Cho arrived at the gala in splendour, looking every bit the happy couple. None but Harry's closest friends would notice that he looked strained and that his hand around Cho's hips was gripping rather tight.

            Soon Cho went off to kiss cheeks with some of her Ministry friends. Gwendolyn Keelin and Iolanthe Sicklethorn came over and, apologizing to a rather relieved Harry, explained that they had met a _darling _woman, Mrs. Tabitha Ludlow, and Cho simply must come over and say hello. Cho blew a kiss at Harry and glided away on black stiletto heels, sandwiched by her two friends. 

            Sighing and feeling his shoulders relax, Harry soon turned his attention to conversation. Despite being somewhat corrupt in previous years, the Ministry had turned over its reputation, as well as getting some new blood, and was now home to Britain's best wizarding minds. 

            "Well, well, Mr. Potter. Still alive I see!" Jefferson Cansino was plump and jovial, giving Harry a slight feeling as if houselves would burst out of nowhere with candy canes and presents. He trotted up to Harry, threw is arm around his shoulders, and thundered, "How is Dark-Wizard catching suiting you, eh?" 

            Harry smiled, but somewhat grimly, remembering his most recent experience and the strains it had put on him. "Very well, Mr. Cansino, but I'm afraid it's getting harder and harder to _keep_ them locked up!" 

            "Would you like to tell me your opinion of this old act getting re-established? It would make a good interview, you know, I could put a good spin on it for you." Jefferson was very earnest, the editor-in-chief of the Daily Prophet. 

            Harry chuckled. "Sorry Jeff, I haven't got one, myself. Unforgivables or no, I'll do my job. Turn that into a story," he called, walking away. Much as he liked Alistair, he'd had too many run-ins with reporters to know that the slightest comment could be turned into a front-page headline. 

            " 'Arry!" A familiar silky voice called his name. He knew who it was. "Bill and I 'ave not seen you in zi longest time. You must join us for tea one day, no?"

            "Fleur. Always a pleasure." Fleur Weasley always made Harry involuntarily more debonair. It didn't suit him; part of the reason why he avoided her and Bill. It made him feel as if he was cheating on Cho and betraying the eldest Weasley. The sudden urge to push Bill out of the way and talk only to Fleur didn't make him feel any better, either. "Of course, I've just been occupied lately. News comes at the shortest notice, and scheduling and keeping appointments is so very hard to do. You will forgive me?" Damn her for being part Veela. 

            "Of course, Harry! How are you, mate?" Bill was still handsome and cool, despite being married and in possession of an infant. They shook hands, and the urge to push him subsided. "Have you seen my kid brother? I think he's got something important on his mind." Turning away from Fleur, he muttered under his breath, "Have you seen his date? And he's completely ignoring her!"

            Harry grinned. "He tends to do that with the best-looking girls," he replied, remembering the Yule Ball back in fourth year. At least _he_ had matured since then. _Well, not much, _he thought, realizing bitterly the circumstances of his relationship. 

            Hermione woke from an apparently dreamless sleep with a jolt. _8:04 on the nose, _she thought as she smiled into her pillow. She had always been able to do this, wake at the time she wanted, once her internal clock was timed. Miss Granger had been waking up at 8:04 for the past two years. 

            She was fairly sure she would be the first of the two of them to wake. It would be satisfying in a savage way to stomp around the room, and maybe step on Malfoy's head in the process, rudely waking him up. She remembered the events of the previous night, although she'd been drunk, and still refused to listen to the little voice in her head about being rational. Besides, when did she have the gratification of just being angry? She was taking full advantage of not having to keep her emotions in check. 

            Hermione sat up in anticipation of hurling her flowery-printed pillows across the room, one by one. A giant throb went through her head. She moaned and collapsed back onto the bed. The pain was extraordinary. _Maybe this is what Harry feels like, _she mused, _when Voldemort is around._ Turning over slowly, she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep again. It wouldn't hurt to sleep in, just this once. 

            Draco was awakened by the sound of a dull moan. Hmm, what was Miss Granger getting up to in the morning? The grogginess clearing, he realized that she was completely unused to the effects of a hangover. Well, damned if he was going to get a cranky Hermione suffering from a hangover and the pain of rejection all at once. Waiting a few minutes and hearing nothing but deep relaxed breathing, Draco got up and silently dressed, slipping out the door with Hermione none the wiser. 

~*~*~

            About and hour and a half later, Hermione glided back into conciousness, headache subsiding slightly. She inched herself into a sitting position, hand gingerly rubbing her head. Making no sudden movements, Hermione managed to get out of her bed, wiggling her toes into the fluffy pink carpet. With her new view of the room she could plainly see that Malfoy was not in the vicinity. Frantically -or as frantically as she could- Hermione started a meticulous search of the room. 

            She searched under to bed, in all of the corners hidden by pieces of furniture like chairs or cabinets, in the walk-in closet, and even in all of the dresser drawers. Perhaps she wasn't quite ready for quick thinking this early in the day, and with a hangover to boot. Sitting down on her bed, a tearful Hermione let all her fears come to the surface of her mind.

            _What if I don't find him? What if the Death Eaters caught him? What if they caught him, but didn't recognize me? What will I tell Ginny? What will I tell the _Ministry?_ Sorry Mr. Ludlow, but I was quite hung- over and upset at Draco for not sleeping with me, so I didn't realize he was gone?_

            Brushing away frustrated tears with the back of her hand, Hermione went into the bathroom to wash with cold water, a sure-fire remedy for grogginess. Beside the mirror, her arch-nemesis at the moment, she saw a note written in beautiful handwriting.

                        Hermione,

                     Meet me at the Wee Folk Café. I need to speak to you.

                         Draco

          P.S Went for a walk, couldn't sleep.

            Rolling her eyes, Hermione changed out of the rumpled black dress, washed off her raccoon eyes, and pulled on some gray draw-string pants and a baggy sweater. Bad things happened when she thought about how she looked. As an afterthought, she pulled her hair back, recalling a compliment Draco had paid her about her long curly hair. " You look free and wild when it's down like that," he'd said. Ugh. Today she would be restrained and tame. 

~*~*~

            Looking up and down the room for Ron, Harry made eye contact with Dumbledore. 

            Dumbledore had maintained a steady presence at the Ministry ever since the return of Voldemort had been confirmed, in Harry's fifth year. Like the old days when Fudge had been a newcomer, owls streamed into Hogwarts. Dumbledore had been re-appointed and promoted everywhere, and had retained full control of Hogwarts. He may have been getting old, but senile he would never be.

            "Hello, Harry. So nice to see you. I believe you've been getting on all right? I spoke to Ron earlier. He misses our talks." Dumbledore's eyes sparkled like sun on the sea. Harry was getting the message, and apparently it was urgent, or else they would have discussed it at Wizard Wheezes.

            "So do I," Harry said quickly. "He's been stressed lately. Maybe later on you could spare a moment or two to-" 

            "Harry! There you are, love! I want you to come and meet Mrs. Ludlow. She absolutely lovely!" Cho had the most aggravating habit of appearing at the least opportune moment.

            "I would, Mr. Potter, but unfortunately I believe that you will soon have to fly off to other matters."

            _Fly off? Bloody hell, what does that mean, _Harry thought. Nodding to Dumbledore, who twinkled at him in return, Harry allowed Cho to lead him through the throng of impeccably dressed wizards to where a group of women were speaking in lowered tones.  Harry steeled himself for the squeals. There had been a lot of rumours and a lot of press about who the lucky Mrs. Potter would be, but with Harry putting out a huge announcement of their engagement in the Daily Prophet, the newspaper had gone wild, and Cho had become the overnight trophy wife of the wizatding world. The boy who lived has a girl who will last!

            "Ladies!" Cho trilled. "I suspect you all know Harry?" _Poor Harry_, he thought to himself as his cheeks were kissed and pinched. Someone had kissed him full on the lips. _Poor, poor me._

"Harry, this is Mrs. Ludlow, the brains behind the Minister for Magic. Mrs. Ludlow, my fiancé, Harry P-"

            "Oh, silly girl! I know who he is! Hello dear," she exclaimed in a high piercing voice. "And I'm not the brains behind him, but I do feed and dress him in the morning, goodness knows!" All of the young women tittered and sighed wistfully. 

            A surprisingly thin man for the voice he possessed came up behind Mrs. Ludlow. "That she does!" Mortimer Ludlow bellowed. "Couldn't get up in the morning if it weren't for my Tabby!" He dipped his wife back slightly and kissed her. Theatrics over, he turned to Cho and said, "Oh, my darling Cho, how are you? And you came complete with fiancé tonight, I see! How are the wedding plans coming, then?"

            Harry was about to say, "Actually, they're just on hold right now," when Cho burst in.

            "Very well, thank you Minister! Of course, it's difficult with both of our busy schedules, but it's coming along."

            Harry stared at her incredulous. She didn't love him. She loved her trophy wife status and all the perks that came along with it. She loved the fact that he was the Boy Who Lived, and couldn't stand not to be the Girl Who Lasted. Did she think he didn't see through her? He began looking around the room, for Ron, for something to smash Cho with, for anything. And there it was. All three of those things. Ginny Weasley, in owl form, sitting on the windowsill. She looked at him, stared him straight in the eyes. And flew off, into the darkness of the outside world. 

            "Cho, love, I'm sorry, but I've just remembered something I've got to do." _Or someone, _Harry thought, and grimaced at his terrible joke. Ginny didn't want him. She would slap him upside the head. Or hex him. The Impediment Jinx sounded good. And appropriate. How ironic that he'd taught it to her.

            Cho's eyes were flashing, but she faked a sympathetic look. "Oh, honey, poor you! I'll see you at home, then." Harry didn't know if she would show up, or if it was all part of her act. Either way, it wouldn't matter. He wouldn't be at home. He smiled sarcastically. No one noticed the difference. 

            Walking away from the group and Cho, he heard one of the ladies say, "Oh, you poor dear. I don't know how you manage to be so patient and trusting. Why, if my husband was always running off to who knows where…" Cho's reply made him gag.

            "Well, when you love someone as much as I love Harry, you just feel a connection. I _know _he loves me as much as I do him."

            He found Ron, who said he would get out as soon as possible, but his date would just not be shaken off. Smiling over Ron's aggravation at having a date who was drop-dead gorgeous and nuts for him, Harry walked through the front door as was immediately grabbed. 

            It had started raining; it usually did in London. More of a torrential downpour, actually. The rain was dripping down his face; drenching his hair and seeping into his socks. The person who had grabbed him was shorter then he was, probably 5' 8 –still quite tall. He squinted. Whoever it was was wearing a hood. 

            He was positively soaking now. Reaching forward, he pulled down the black hood. It was Ginny, already wet. Her hair felt frizzy, and she had a horrible damp feeling at the back of her neck, a mixture of rain and sweat. 

            Harry let out a sigh of relief. "Ginny! You scared me. I thought you were a Death Eater or something." Ginny raised an eyebrow at this comment.

            She looked up at the sky and said, "I saw an awning down the way. We'll be a little drier under it." She took off down the street, Harry following at a jog.

            It wasn't much better underneath the awning. There were cracks in the old, rotted wood roof, which also had bugs crawling in it. Ginny eyed Harry carefully and said, "What's wrong, Harry? Had a bad night at the Insta-Smiles Parade?" Ginny's name for parties which Harry attended, on account of the fact that whenever Harry approached, people painted on smiles.

            Harry put his head in his hands, and rubbed his temples. Then he said, "It's Cho. She doesn't seem to get the fact that I want to call it quits for now. She wants to bask in her new-found fame." He closed his eyes and leaned back against the brick wall. A spider was scuttling around beside his head. 

            Ginny snorted in an unladylike fashion. "Harry dear," she said frankly, "any of us could have told you that was all she wanted. She might not have always been a gold-digging schemer, but she is now, and I say you're better off without her. I know you don't want me to say this, but I'm only being hone-" She stopped abruptly because Harry was shaking his head.

            "No. No, you're right. I think I always knew what she was in the back of my mind, but wanted her to be the way I remember her in third year." Harry looked into Ginny's eyes and needed to say no more. She completely understood what he was trying to get across.

            _I lied, _she thought. _I lied when I told you I stopped loving you. _It was all very soap-opera, but she couldn't help it. She hoped he was getting the message.

            Harry was still looking into her eyes. He looked and saw Cho's falseness. He saw her insensitivity, he saw her unwarranted jealousy, her skepticism, her downright bitchiness. He looked and he saw Ginny, untried, untested, but so desirable. 

            He cupped her face in his hands, his eyes searching her face. She closed her eyes, cherishing that touch. That little movement told him all he needed to know about Ginny's feelings right at that moment. He kissed her gently, softly. No all-consuming fiery passionate kiss, but a chaste kiss, a kiss that spoke volumes. She didn't hesitate, nor falter. She had been waiting for Harry all these years, but never alone. There were more men than Harry who had felt Ginny's kiss. 

            More quickly than he liked, she pulled away. They were both breathing heavily. 

            "Bloody hell. That can never happen again. Don't worry, I won't say anything to Cho." She spat out the name. It disgusted her. _Harry's a lovely kisser, _she thought abruptly, but quickly pushed that thought away. She stepped away, not trusting herself. 

            "Why? Tell Cho for all I care. Why would it never happen again?" He stepped closer. She smelled like oranges, sharp and sweet.

            "Because, Harry darling-" he loved when she said that, albeit sarcastically, "-you have a fiancée. And even if you don't love her, you'd still feel guilty for betraying her. And eventually you'd come to resent me."

            Harry didn't want to concede that she was right, that he would feel guilty. But it wouldn't last long. Cho was just a sad chapter in his life that he would get over. He wanted Ginny to be the Girl Who Lasted, not Cho, not anyone else.

            "No I don't. I don't have a fiancée. Not anymore. Maybe in Cho's mind we still have something, but she'll have to realize that it's over." A thought jumped to the forefront of his mind. A chilling thought. A thought that could ruin all and would explain why she was resisting him. Slowly, afraid of the answer, he asked, "Are _you_ with someone?"

            Ginny laughed, a little sardonically. "Yes, recently becoming a Death Eater has done _wonders_ for my social life." Harry relaxed his tense body. She wasn't finished yet, though. "And what was that in there? She had her arm around you and was chattering away."

            "She was spreading evil, nasty, attention-seeking stories. We agreed to go on hiatus and come as friends, but she was talking to Mortimer and Tabitha about our _wedding plans_. Bitch." He said it before he had even thought it. Even Ginny looked surprised. But shaking her head, she dismissed it. 

            "Well, I'm here on business tonight. No don't worry-" Harry started to pull out his wand. "They're going to shoot up the Dark Mark right on top of this building. That's what they planned, anyway. Sh!" she exclaimed suddenly, and pushed Harry behind a cluster of garbage bins. Her keen eyes scanned the darkness. A looming figure in a black cape materialized out of the shadows and slowly advanced toward her. "Nott?" she called softly.

            Luckily Nott wasn't the brightest Crayon in the box, and hadn't been paying close attention to what Ginny was saying as he walked up, and didn't question why she was talking to, apparently, herself. "Yeah. Change of plans. The Dark Lord thinks this is too good an opportunity to waste. We're going to burn it, there are too few of us to attack. Timed for two minutes from now." Nott left a silent Ginny to deliver the message to the next person.

            "Holy shit," she breathed. "Go," she ordered Harry. "Get out Ron and Bill and Fleur. Any other people you can save. Do not announce it, or you'll blow the cover! People will die tonight Harry. You just have to choose who is most important to you and the wizarding world." Harry looked stricken at having to choose who would live and who would die. Ginny was pushing himback to the entrance of the building, still muttering instructions to him, "Ludlow will get out. Don't tell him. He's one of them. _Go!_" She spoke as loud as she could, in a stage whisper. 

            Harry went. Inside he smiled and shook hands with everyone, alone in the knowledge that they were going to die. First he went up to Dumbledore.

            "Death Eater attack. Get out," he said, still smiling. Dumbledore went to get Minerva, who was accompanying him that evening. Wordlessly, they began to alert one or two people, telling them different stories.

            "Bill, Fleur, get out. A little bird told me," Harry said quietly, sidling up beside them. 

            "Shit," Bill said eloquently. He and Fleur went out a side door and Apparated to their home where their infant daughter awaited them. 

            "Ron, your owl showed up. Get out," Harry hissed as he passed Ron. After a moment's hesitation he went up to Cho. His conscience would not let him leave her. 

            "Go to your flat. Get out of here. I can't explain right now, but you need to leave."

            "But Harry, we just got here," Cho whined.

            Fifteen seconds. "Fine, stay. I'm leaving." Cho shot him scathing glare, but turned on her heel and left. He followed, straight and tall. As he exited the building and darted away, he heard voices mutter, "Incendio!" As if on cue, the windows and doors were sealed with fire. As a Ministry precaution, wands were confiscated at the entrance. Multicoloured sparks were flying everywhere, as a result of burning wand cores. The fire began to roar, catching onto the wooden beams that ran along the ceiling. This was a strange fire. It could burn anything, stone, metal, concrete, burned and withered like sheets of newsprint, wherever wizards jumped through windows or off the roof. Death Eaters complete with mask and cape had finished them off. Harry grew sick watching the flames devour the building. He had saved as many friends as he could, but many more would die. It wasn't in him to decide the fate of so many people. He Apparated home, and called his broomstick to him. In a daze he clipped and polished the handle using his battered old kit. Forgetting about Ginny and Cho, he drifted to a far from dreamless sleep. Images of hands pounding on the glass in a desperate effort to get out the death trap. Condemned souls screaming for help haunted him that night.  

Finis 

A/N: Hey everyone. So here we are, this is the longest chapter in the history of our- er- history. So I hope you enjoyed it, and school's starting soon, but we hope to keep churning out the chapters. We already have the next one started! Please review, and notice Samantha Riddle's CC? That's what we love to hear. Thank you to everyone who read before and is giving us another chance, and to everyone new. Bye!


	11. The Youngest Weasleys

**The Distance to Here**

**Chapter 11**

**A/N: SORRY SORRY SORRY! Apology is at the end.**

**            This chapter is very much Weasley-centric. We were going to have Hr/Dr in this, but the opening, everyone lets out their anger scene was at Laura's house and I wrote this chapter all by myself, so the Hr/D stuff that I wrote depended upon the other scene, which a) isn't complete and b) I don't have with me. I love you all, please read. Oh, and special apology to "kateydidnt", who seemed already pretty ticked off last time we updated.**

            "It's all gone? Everyone is dead?" The cold voice pierced the darkness. Avery spoke up.

            "Yes, my lord. Nothing is left there but ashes. We shot the Mark into the air, and now everyone will know who the real power is- who will win this war." Even with his confident words and manner, Avery trembled under the gaze of the man standing before him.

            Voldemort smiled thinly and Avery bowed low. Swooping suddenly over to the opposite side of the circle, the scarlet eyes traveled to a striking woman with a cold and proud stance.

            "Ah, little Miss Weasley. Did you enjoy yourself, tonight? I thought it might be to your taste, knowing that practically your whole family would be there."

            Now was the time, she knew. She would expose the errors of her fellow Death Eaters, and gain favour in Voldemort's eyes.

            "Yes, my lord, but I am not certain that my family were the ones to die tonight." Ginny almost met his eyes, but stopped at his chest. Her chin was raised and she stood tall beneath her hood. Voldemort's eyes flashed.

            "How can this be?" he breathed. His nostrils were beginning to flare, a sure sign of his displeasure.

            "The others failed to notice in their planning that that Aurors can keep their wands at all costs. I'm fairly sure that Harry- Harry Potter- would have Disapparated the Weasleys, and anyone else he could. Before Disapparating himself, obviously."

            There was muttering all around the circle, a shifting along its circumference. Ginny raised her head a little higher. This would be Ginny-the-Death-Eater's time to shine, she reminded herself.

            To everyone's surprise, Voldemort began to laugh.

            "You bewilder me, Miss Weasley," he chuckled, a chilling noise that gave Ginny goosebumps. "It appears you are more useful than I had anticipated. Who knew a Weasley could be this intelligent?" Ginny flushed with anger, but it was hidden beneath her hooded robe. 

            "You have impressed me," he continued. "In future you will be given more important tasks to perform. And speaking of important tasks," he said, voice dangerously soft, "how is your assignment coming?"

            The Occlumency that Harry had taught her automatically activated itself, as Voldemort met and held her eyes, boring into her skull.

            "Not as well as I could have hoped," she pretended to admit. "But I assure you that I am hearing new reports every day. I have re-established contacts all over England. He was in Soho for quite a few days. Soon he will be within our reach." Ginny realized that she was borderline babbling.

            "Well," Voldemort said, with venom in his voice, "be sure that it's _very_ soon." A slight snickering noise was coming distinctly from Lucius Malfoy's part of the circle. She knew that she had played right into his hands. If Ginny did not come up with a form of success to present to Voldemort, and soon, then he would re-delegate the task to Lucius. Draco's father would no doubt be more vigilant than she had been so far.

            Voldemort moved back into the centre of the circle, and began to speak to the Death Eaters as a group. They met in the wood outside the Malfoy Manor now, as Voldemort stayed there. Raids were occasionally conducted at the Manor, but Voldemort was uch more powerful than the ordinary Magical Law Enforcement officers, and he was never discovered. After another hour of uncomfortable standing, listening to Avery's gloating minute-by-minute account of the fire, they were dismissed. 

Ginny Disapparated to her small, dingy flat in Hogsmeade. It was above the Hog's Head, and it was useful and serviceable, especially considering the clientele that frequented the pub. She went down to get a drink and see if she could overhear a few conversations. However she was the only person in the bar, and after finishing her Firewhiskey, she stalked back up to bed.

Lying on the fold-out couch, she lay thinking and wondering about what had befallen her. In school, she had been a lot like the twins, but more subtle. No one had ever suspected her, and she had gotten away with pretty much everything. It also helped that Ginny was one of the best liars that Hogwarts had ever seen. Only Dumbledore had been able to see through her façade. She had graduated with top NEWTS in Defence Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Potions, and Herbology, and with Harry's help had undergone some Auror training in secret. She was very powerful. But sometimes she couldn't help but think that it was a waste.

All of the training, all of the power, and the only thing she was doing was setting a building on fire, killing the people she was trying to protect. Dumbledore had promised her that it was only temporary, that once she helped to defeat Voldemort she could become an honorary Auror. She would join the ranks of heros who had helped fight for Wizarding freedom throughout history. But just then, it was hard to think about all of that. People's lives were in the balance.

~*~

            The Daily Prophet published an article about the Ministry fire on the front page. Havoc was spread all over the country by noon. Wizards everywhere were panicking, asking questions relentlessly. Howlers, owls and visitors pummeled the Ministry. Staff were scared, grief-stricken and stressed. Most of the Department Heads had not come into work, and so Ron, Arthur and Amelia Bones, who had not attended the function and had come into work completely ignorant, organized people by taking charge of several Departments at once. They then came together, making a list of the people who had gone to the function; their names, position and status. Most people were unaccounted for, and they also soon realized that many more were missing than had been at the function the previous night. Ron was left muttering in disgust at the cowardice of Minishtry workers. 

At one, he finally decided that as much as he would have liked to, he could not keep the public in the dark for much longer. Squaring his shoulders, he went through the stone fireplace in the Department common room, and emerged in the Atrium.

No sooner had he whooshed out of the fire, dusting the grey soot off his brilliant hair, than reporters from every magazine and newspaper in existence came crowding towards him.

"Mr. Weasley, who is the culprit?"

"Mr. Weasley, did you catch him?"

"Is there any concrete evidence?"

"Mis-ter Weasley," said a voice, booming out over everyone else and overpowering the throng, "how did you get out of the hall? My sources tell me that you and your entire family escaped alive. Were you _aware_ of any such threat on the Ministry? Why were you so irresponsible to neglect to inform the proper authorities?"

Grimly, Ron stood his ground in the face of the barrage of implied accusations. He knew it had been coming.

"The Ministry," he began, reading his prepared statement, "has not, as of yet, captured the culprits of this terrible tragedy. I am relieved to inform you that the Minister of Magic is alive and well. Some senior members of the Ministry were able to escape, but the deaths of many good witches and wizards means that the Minister will have to be making changes within the staff." He went on, ploughing through the outburst accompanied by this declaration. "We will be posting a list of the deceased in the Daily Prophet tomorrow. A memorial service will be held on Shrieking Hill in Hogsmeade on Tuesday. We would like to remind all citizens to stay calm, to retain their vigilance, and to report any information they may have about this terrible incident. Thank you." He turned to go, but the voice boomed out again.

"Mister Weasley, who do you suppose is behind it all?" Wearily, Ron turned back towards the largely-built man with dark hair and deep, brilliantly black eyes.

"What's your name, sir?" The big man grinned, eyes shining like ebony.

"Derek Boyden, pleased to meet you," he said politely. He seemed to emanate authority and power.

"Derek, who do I suppose is behind every attack on the Ministry? And by the way, I _am_ the proper authorities." Ron Weasley stalked back to the fire and stayed in the confines of his office for the rest of the day.

~*~

Ginny was tossing and turning, eyes alternately shut tight and wide and staring. In her small, dingy apartment, she felt as if she was suffocating. The quilt on her bed was a straitjacket. Fro several hours she had been trying to force herself to sleep, with no luck whatsoever, for every time she closed her eyes and willed herself into unconsciousness, the sounds and images returned to the forefront of her mind so vividly it was as if she had re-Apparated to the scene of the fire.

It was almost light out when she finally drifted into a troubled doze.

~*~

Screams filled the air, piercing the darkness like a whip-crack. From where she was standing, the building was partly hidden from view, but already the building began to give off a warm, ethereal glow. The heat was rising, it wafted towards Ginny lazily, basking her in its comfort. A sheen of cold sweat glistened on her forehead, combined with the rain that had, only a few minutes earlier, begun to fall. But this fire was waterproof, resistant to the downpour beating desperately against it.

The screams grew louder, higher, more panicked. Men were shouting now, too, they must have begun to realize that there was no escape. They were doomed. A steady beating had started on the windows and doors. It now grew erratic; it mirrored the beating of Ginny's heart as she waited. She was bound by Voldemort's orders to stay and ensure that the task was complete. She was bound by pride to restrain from throwing up.

The scent of burning flesh reached her nostrils, assailing them with the pungent stench of death. Ginny's stomach began contrcting painfully. The screams were subsiding now, transforming into pained moans and wrenching sobs. Several were still not resigned to their deaths, and shrieked for mercy. The sounds of it stabbed the air relentlessly, piercing at Ginny's heart as with a hot blade. Their dying cries rose over the roar of the rapidly spreading fire, gobbling every man and woman inside the doomed building.

She couldn't help it. Turning behind a tree, Ginny vomited; retches and dry sobs drowned out by the sound of the crackling fire. How vindictive it was, how unprejudiced it was in its malignancy. The more she listened to the shrieks of the dying, the more she became afraid.

Ginny's eyes shot wide open.

What if's began shooting through her mind, bouncing around and snowballing each other. What if Harry hadn't gone with Cho to the stupid function? What if he had consented to hand in his wand, even though Aurors are authorized to keep their wands at all times? What if had not found Ron in time? What if Fleur and Bill had died, their child left parentless?

Exhausted with fear and melancholy, Ginny sank back into her pillow. She wasn't so sure anymore that it was all worth it, that she was doing any good for her friends and family. Doubts and questions plaguing her mind, she drifted back to sleep. She would not remember her dreams by the time she woke, and it was probably for the best.

A/N: Well there you have it. I'm so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, sorry. I have about another half a chapter written, so it'll only take about two and a half weeks to get up the next one. HAHAHA. No, I'm kidding. You should all hate us by now, but if you do, at least review to let us know! SORRY SORRY SORRY! I love you all, by the way.


	12. What Happened to the FlowerPower Headqua...

**The Distance to Here**

****

Chapter 12

A/N: ::all of the readers gasp in deep surprise:: Wow. It's been what, four days? And I've already posted! Kudos to me and my genius. For all of those who wanted more D/Hr, here it is! An entire Draco-Hermione-centric chapter just for you. Of course, there's not a lot of romance, but there is a lot of interaction, and George makes a little guest appearance. Enjoy, and remember to review.

            The restaurant was a dingy, traditional family place, with grimy windows and stained tables. The walls were a deep hunter green long faded to look like mud, and they were plastered hap-hazardly with football posters and signed celebrity pictures. Sean Connery smiled his 'best wishes' on Draco. Draco scowled at the picture and averted his eyes. He hoped that Hermione had not gone to the Ministry and demanded his capture, or gone to Ginny and told her to kill him. He shuddered, knowing enough of Ginny's power to believe her capable of it.

            The tiny bell above the door tinkled its welcome to the newest customer. Draco looked up, and smirked. He couldn't help it. He had utterly defeated her, he could see it on her face, and everything about her. Hermione's hair was pulled back, she was wearing baggy, unflattering trackies, and she looked like she had aged five years overnight. He alone had caused the total, tired, defeat of the woman staring bewilderedly around the room.

            An unexpected wave of pity and guilt drenched over him, blasting him with its icy wall. He didn't feel so triumphant anymore, remembering the feel of her lips on his, the way he had pressed her into the softness of the mattress…Shaking his head slightly, he tilted his hair back and leaned against it, hands behind his head. Draco Malfoy was doing his best to look unaffected, but when Hermione turned her gaze to him, and her eyes narrowed, he had a nervous feeling about what was to come.

~*~

            Hermione felt her whole being tighten when she saw Draco, the picture of confidence and cool. A smirk slowly spread onto his face, but there was something wrong with it that she couldn't place. Setting her shoulders, she stalked towards him, eyes barely slits in her head.

            "Glad to see you found the place ok," he said. Insolent Bastard.

            "Don't you bloody start with me. I have put up with more over the last few days than I have over the past three years of my career! You have played with my mind, changed personalities countess times, ran away and god knows what other little stunts you have up your sleeve. Do you have any idea what I went through this morning? My head was pounding, I was going out of my mind with worry, what if you were found out and Ginny was compromised?!" She was speaking through her teeth, voice deadly with venom.

            Draco's pity was rapidly evaporating, along with his remorse. Who the hell did she think she was, lecturing him like a naughty child? Pansy had never done that…He sighed audibly and rubbed his temples.

            "Look, Granger, taking you to a public place was a way of preserving my life. Here, you can't kill me, and I knew that if I hadn't left when you were asleep, I never would have convinced you to come out with me. But I knew you would have to do your job. I'm sorry you thought I had gone and run off to the Dark L- to Voldemort. But if it's a matter between your feelings and my life, it's not going to be your day." Draco stared insolently up at Hermione, not budging an inch with his eye contact.

            Hermione was a woman scorned, but her brain always overpowered her emotions. She felt her anger slowly ebbing away as the truth of his words sunk in. But she was disturbed by the fact that even through all of the insane what-ifs of that morning, the thought had never occurred to her that he would have changed sides. Could she perhaps be learning to trust Draco Malfoy? No. Never. 

            "Yeah, well," she muttered, in a very Ron-like way, pulling up a chair. There was no way in hell she would let him get off so easily. She was enjoying being annoying, at least for the time being. It was funwatching Draco squirm in what would be an imperceptible way if she weren't such a good judge of character.

            "What can I get you doves?" A petite, fake-blond waitress bustled over with a pot of steaming Irish Cream. She spilled some onto the already stained carpet.

            "I'll have the full breakfast, and the most expensive dessert you have. He's paying," Hermione said sweetly, handing Draco's menu to the waitress, who smiled vacantly as she wrote down the order. "Oh, and a coffee for me, as well." Draco rolled his eyes to the heavens.

~*~

            "When we get back I need to you talk to Ron," Hermione stated matter-of-factly, taking advantage of the truce of sorts that had been established between them. She had finished a grand total of half the breakfast, 3 cups of coffee, and hadn't touched the dessert, which alone had cost them five euros of Muggle money. The doggy-bag swung gently at her side.

            "We need to organize something with the Ministry, so they don't get in our way," she continued. "We also need to collaborate with Ginny to work out a plan to deal with Voldemort." They were heading back to the Bed and Breakfast, or the "Flower Power Headquarters", as Draco had so eloquently- and disdainfully- put it. 

Reaching a mutual agreement, they had decided to put their heads together to come up with a plan of action. Many things were at stake here, Ginny's life, for one, and that vibrant young woman was incentive enough for both of them to swallow at least a minor amount of pride.

"Alright," he replied,, albeit a little sullenly. Damn Ginny and her friendship. He felt as if he was causing a little more trouble than he was worth. "Why don't you just let me die?" he asked suddenly, turning to face Hermione, stopping in his tracks. She did not meet his eye, but kept walking determinedly forwards, stepping around him.

"Because it's not my job to decide who Voldemort kills, only to try and prevent him from killing at all."

"That's not a real ans-" Draco stopped dead and stared.

A brilliant green skull, mouth open, had risen over the roof of the Bed and Breakfast. Its eyes were menacing slits, inspiring fear and horror even in those who did not understand its significance. The light exuded by it overpowered the sunlight, glittering its luminescent emerald for all to see. The Mark was possibly even more fearful to behold in broad daylight, because it renewed Hermione's awareness that Voldemort was more powerful than she thought, and that his supporters, if anything, matched her power. Unlike her, however, they were willing to exploit it. Danger was all around her. She whipped around to face Draco, who was standing stiff-shouldered, tight-lipped.

"We can't be here when Ministry officials get here," she said urgently, unaware that the emergency of the previous night would render any trip to Ireland impossible. "Do you know the city? Where's the nearest Floo connection?"

Wordlessly, Draco began to run along streets, hand clasped to her elbow. He dodged here and there, cutting across alleyways. Eighteenth century architecture and modern storefronts passed Hermione in a confused blur.

They finally slowed and stopped in front of an old "Exotic Pet Supplies" store that was marked as closed. Draco barged in, and Hermione, following him, saw the interior transform into a wood-paneled room with jars of pickled salamander tails, baked toad spleens and other potion ingredients. Hermione gazed around at the shop while Draco drew himself up to full intimidation height. After a few minutes of brief words with the chubby, bald man behind the counter, Draco grabbed Hermione's arm again.

"Let's go," he muttered. "I'm not sure I trust him, he seemed to be studying my face." When she looked blank, he elaborated. "He might think I look _familiar_. Being recognized by anyone right now is not a good idea."

Hermione gave a curt nod, and picked up her pace. 

They followed the waddling man into the back room, where the walls were blank, and made of  a smooth stone face that reminded Hermione of the inside of a cave. There was a distinct dripping noise that made her suspicious. 

"You can go first," Draco said, ushering Hermione to stand in the grimy stone fireplace. It looked like it had been carved into the wall. "Where to?" he asked, looking somberly at her.

It took a while for her to answer, his eyes distracted her. They seemed to slow her mind down, tune it out. It was like a silencer for her brain. She liked it.

"Right now I'd say the safest place is Hogwarts, but we could be endangering the students if we go there. I don't know, what do you think?"

"I was thinking more along the lines of the students endangering us," Draco said shrewdly. "I mean, kids of Death Eaters go to the school, and they could compromise us. After all, I went there," he said bitterly. "Let's go somewhere else."

But he couldn't think of any place that could possible serve as a haven to them. It was strange that while before he had renounced the Death Eater status everything had been open to him. Now, it was very clear and very real that they were outnumbered, and surrounded.

"Whizard Wheezes," Hermione said suddenly.

"Bless you," he said, smirking rakishly. "Seriously, Granger the joke shop? Have you gone bleeding mad? That's in Diagon Alley, remember? Loads of people, and it's broad bloody daylight!" Hermione waved his concerns aside. She stepped inside the fireplace.

"Weasley's Wizard Wheezes!" she said clearly, and disappeared in a flash of green flame.

Muttering under his breath about overly independent women and the naiveté of Gryffindors, he followed suit. Draco was still suspicious about the bald wizard who watched him behind thick spectacles as he disappeared, but it couldn't be helped. Neither of them had a wand to challenge him with, in any case.

~*~

            "Well, Hermione, I don't know where you can find a place but it's not here. I'm not keen on having Death Eaters bursting into my shop, thank you very much!" George shook his head, and walked a few paces away from Hermione and Draco, standing side by side in front of the fireplace. George had nearly had a heart attack when he walked in to find them together in the back of his shop, a culmination of his own and his brother's lifelong dream.

            "George, you don't understand. Ginny wants to keep him alive, she needs to keep him alive. If someone finds him, Ginny will be found out. All the Occlumency in the world won't save her, when one of her own declares her a traitor. You saw what happened to Snape, do you want the same for your only sister?" Hermione knew that she was treading very dangerous waters by pulling out the pity card- it could very easily backfire.

            George turned around abruptly, eyes slightly bleary. He and Ginny were very close, and he loved her almost as much as he loved Fred.

            "Fine," he said, heaving a great sigh, "but I'm doing this for my sister, not for you Hermione, and certainly not for _you_." The insult and hate Draco had caused for utterly destroying the twins' final year of Hogwarts had never really dissipated, because they had parted ways so soon after their misunderstanding.

            There was an exuberant flatulence from the front of the shop, that was the doormat indicating a customer. George turned to go.

            "By the way," he muttered reluctantly, "meeting. Today. Stick around." The beaded curtains clicked together pleasantly as he pushed through to the front of the shop.

            "You like the mat?" they heard him say, "I'll give it to you for three Galleons.

            Draco and Hermione exchanged a tired look.

            "Well, I hope to God you're trustworthy, because you're about to be privy to a hell of a lot of information. And please-" she said, voice pleading, "please, try to co-operate with them. At least don't provoke them."

            "Don't worry about me, Granger, I can certainly take care of myself. You're not my caretaker or guardian," he replied, with an edge of anger creeping into his voice and his stormy eyes. He was letting her see his emotions on purpose, trying to intimidate him. He underestimated her badly.

            "I'm not trying to protect you," she retorted. "I'm trying to make the most of people's time. This meeting is crucial and will be rendered useless if all we do is bicker over schoolboy grudges and rivalries. Just- do me a favour and be nice. Please?"

            "Fine," he said impatiently. He was willing to do it to appease her. Sometimes he thought that it was just easier to be on her god side. It was certainly much less stressful.

            "Now, will you wait here while I go to get my wand back? I'll only be one a little while." Draco nodded and turned away. Hermione shrugged and disappeared into the fireplace, a flash of green signaling her departure.

            The flash of Floo powder illuminated the contours of Draco's face for only an instant, though the effects of it were longer-lasting. He stared at the fire long after she had gone. Two women disappearing in a flash of green. Only one would come back. Pansy would never have let him go, and here he was, only a month after her death, attracted to someone else, even developing an emotional attachment of some kind. How could he do this to Pansy's memory?

            But digging deeply within himself for the answers, he realized that in only one part of her life had Pansy been unselfish: when it came to him. And he knew that their places had been reversed, he would have wanted Pansy to move on.

_            Well, _he thought wryly_, she probably wouldn't approve of who I'm  tempted to move on _with.

            But he had always known that no one could choose who they were thrown together with, no one could choose if and when they came out of that encounter different.


	13. The Rebels

The Distance to Here: Chapter 13  
  
A/N: Read our bio for information/apology  
  
Ginny was dreaming. She was standing at the foot of a great, deep lake. The water was teal like she had never seen before; green and blue swirling and churning. All around her the rocks were bathed over and over with the constancy of the white tipped waves. Further out, the boulders were being slapped, the water making a resounding crack as it lashed them with all of its fury. A breeze, no, a gale, caught up her hair and blew it haphazardly around, whipping against her flushed cheeks. The wind soared around her, at once caressing her and causing utmost discomfort. Droplets of water tinkled onto her face. They weren't a brilliant splash of colour, they were clear and held no awe. Ginny wanted to be teal.  
  
Then she was in the water, drowning. The water wasn't teal anymore, the blue had drained out and now only the green remained, illuminated and intense, and all around her.  
  
And she felt alive. She was falling through the water, plummeting and struggling to find air. She knew she was going to die, but she didn't care. It was better to die, she thought disjointedly, to die, exhilirated, than to live in a dead, diseased world. She wanted to die in a world that was beautiful and luminescent and such a familiar green...  
  
~*~  
  
"Ginny?" Hermione called, poking her head out of the corner fo the fireplace, "Are you in here?"  
  
There was a stirring noise from the next room where a single bed with yellowing sheets stood in one corner. The room itself was sparse, with nothing but a dresser and a mirror. The walls were white-washed and cracked. Lying fitfully in the bed was the only spot of colour in the room, Ginny's scarlet head, with a still more colourful personality.  
  
Hermione smiled fondly at the young woman for a moment before shaking her gently awake.  
  
"What?" Ginny asked groggily. Her eyes widened suddenly as she took in Hermione's face. "Hermione! What are you doing here? Where's Malfoy? I'm so confused," she said finally, rubbing her eyes and then her temples.  
  
"It's alright," Hermione said reassuringly, patting her friend's shoulders. She proceeded to tell Ginny all that had happened from the time they had gone to Dublin, omitting the unfortunate incident when too much alcohol had been consumed.  
  
"And that's it?" Ginny asked skeptically. Her story had a lot of holes in it.  
  
"Yes...what?" Hermione demanded more than a little defensively.  
  
"Nothing!" Ginny erased the look of polite incredulity from her face. After all, Hermione wasn't the only one hiding something. Denial and yearning coursed through her. She blushed. Hermione raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Well, anyway, Draco is now at Fred and George's, and he's waiting for us. There's a meeting at two. Oh, and I need my wand back. I feel naked without it."  
  
Ginny yawned, nodding, and lurched out of bed. She was still in her Death Eater robes.  
  
"Oh," she trailed off, eyes flitting from side to side. It was awkward for Hermione to see her like this. Although she was not a real Death Eater, the fact that she did work for them burned into her like the Dark Mark. Her right hand went to her left wrist and she scrambled around, picking clothes off the floor.  
  
"Um, I'll be..." she motioned towards the shabby bathroom and darted in.  
  
Hermione sat heavily down on the sinking mattress. When did life start getting so complicated? She remembered their days at Hogwarts, relatively so simple compared to what they were facing now. At Hogwarts, they had exceeded the expectations of all who knew them, and here, in the outside world, they had no one to protect them, and the expectations were the hell of a lot higher.  
  
Inside the bathroom, Ginny was briskly brushing away frustrated tears from her eyelids, and splashing cold and metallic water on her face. She hated having to hide and skulk in front of her friends, her family, Harry...  
  
"Harry," she whispered, almost inaudibly.  
  
~*~  
  
"I'm ready," she called, leaving her robes in a crumpled heap by the toilet. There was a gloss on her lips and a shine to her eyes that Hermione didn't fail to notice. She wondered just how much she had missed during her time in Dublin. They set off by Floo, leaving the plain apartment alone with the sunshine streaming in through the windows.  
  
~*~  
  
Dumbledore smiled as he stepped through the beaded curtain. Ginny and Hermione were sitting tall and proud in their spots at the table, two remarkable women, powerful witches and courageous fighters. They flanked the equally courageous man with platinum hair, who should have towered over them both, but was slumped sulkily in his chair, apparently recently chastised. Hermione kept glancing at him, looking for something written in his face.  
  
"Mr. Malfoy," he said gravely. Draco got to his feet respectfully, slightly bowing his head. "I am glad that you are here and safe."  
  
"Professor, I am grateful for your help. If there is anything I hate to be, it is a burden. Your tolerance will not be forgotten."  
  
"I hope not, Draco, for there is much to do before you may walk down Diagon Alley in safety again."  
  
They both took their seats. Hermione was now looking non-plussed at the amount of respect eh was capable of showing. Ginny looked like a smug mother hen, or perhaps, a smug mother barn-owl.  
  
Remus came in with Sirius, as always, by side. They both smiled at Ginny and Hermione, and stopped stiffly when they caught Draco's icy and appraising gaze.  
  
"Be nice," Remus said to Sirius through his teeth. In reply, Sirius uttered the softest of growls. This man was the image of his father. What the hell was he doing inside the headquarters?  
  
"Be nice," Hermione whispered sharply. Draco shifted subtly in his seat, but said nothing. She hated not knowing what he was thinking.  
  
By now Sirius had transformed, and he was moving with Remus to their seats directly opposite the three young people.  
  
Years of practice had taught Harry Potter that outburst of anger only invited negative consequences. Nevertheless, it took a great deal of strength to keep from rushing Draco as he stepped through the curtain. Draco was sitting comfortably in between the two most important women in his life. His arms clenched at his side. Calmly, he strode to the table, glanced at everyone except Draco with a nod that thrilled Ginny's heart, and took the strategically empty seat beside Ginny, sandwiching her rather uncomfortably between the two rivals. They averted each other's gaze. Hermione gave Draco a searching look, but the iron wall was up, and could not be penetrated.  
  
One by one, members of the exclusive resistance formerly known as the Order until denounced and disbanded by the Ministry filed in. They were known now simply as the Rebels, standing alone, fighting two enemies, desperately trying to survive the crossfire of these formidable foes. Most of the members didn't notice Draco, but some were intimidated by him, especially those who knew his father. When they stared, he only turned unaffectedly away, aware of the pacifying presence of Hermione and Ginny.  
  
Ron was the last to come in, smiling and joking as if he were only here to pay a visit to his brothers.  
  
As he caught sight of Draco, all trace of laughter drained from his face, except for around his nostrils, which was white. He went to the head of the table. Draco barely had time to marvel at the self-control Ron had gained and mastered before the meeting began, and he was neither addressed nor alluded to.  
  
"I could hardly get away," Ron began. "But this meeting was necessary, vital. All of you will be needed to repair the damage of last night. From now on, this country will be in a state of chaos that none of us has experienced in our lives. Those of you who have jobs that can be postponed must do so. Or should, since you are under no obligation to me. There are tasks for all of you. We need temporary Ministers, and we desperately need intelligence. No one knew about it until a few minutes before it happened, and then only by chance. So-"  
  
"Hold on a minute." Draco's silky voice penetrated into the hardness of Ron's carefully controlled speech. "What happened last night? Hermione and I were forced to go to Dublin for a few days." Everyone stared. Those who had not noticed him at first certainly did now, and the reactions were not ones of welcome. Draco raised his chin a little higher.  
  
"There was a fire." That was Ginny, voice slightly hoarse, soft and haunting. "A Ministry dinner in a secret location. Everyone who was anyone in or involved with the Ministry was there. I don't know how the D- Voldemort found out, but w- they- sealed every opening and burned it. Harry found out and got Ron, and everyone he could, out. Everyone else died."  
  
"Everything's on hold at the Ministry. No other departments except for Muggle Relations, International Co-operation and Justice are operational. There's no point in keeping any others working. We need people trailing Death Eaters, people acting as officials, and as spies. All of you know what is at stake, some better than I. I cannot ask for your obedience, but I do ask you to remember why we are here and the loyalties we have. The lives of those we love are at stake, as are our own. That is all. I aks that if you are available to owl me saying that you are willing to come in for a meeting. The Ministry is opening its doors for temporary employment, and I need people by my side that I can trust."  
  
Everyone dispersed. Soon, only the trio, Ginny, and Draco remained to discuss the monumental challenge before them. Draco's survival and Ginny's protection, and the uneasy balance it required. Ron and Harry wanted to opt for the easy way out.  
  
"Sorry, Malfoy, but bad luck. We may as well turn you over to Voldemort and allow him to kill you. Or, rather, allow Ginny to kill you. It will solve everything, and it seems to be the only way. Too bad it can't be me," he finished with malice. Ron was dead-set on saving his sister at all costs.  
  
"No." That was Ginny again, but this time, her voice wasn't soft. "I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I did. I refuse to do it, Ron, I won't have the death of an innocent man on my conscience. Ultimately, it's my decision. Besides, he's my friend, as much as you hate him. I won't betray him."  
  
"Ginny, please see reason," Harry said quietly. "If it's between saving Malfoy and saving you, what do you think everyone's choice will be?"  
  
But Ginny wasn't looking at him. She was looking at Hermione, who's indecision was apparent by the expression on her face. "Hermione?"she asked pointedly.  
  
"I don't know!" The young woman burst out, her vehemence surprising everyone, Draco in particular. Wasn't this the same woman who only hours ago had wanted to kill him? "I agree with Ginny. I won't let you kill him. It's not...right. Do you remember how you used Snape for Avada Kedavra and created a Simulacrum? Couldn't we just do that?"  
  
"Yes, but it took a year to complete the simulacrum. We don't have that much time. Voldemort wants answers, and he's not patient."  
  
Harry spoke up again, voice thoughtful. "What if we just used a dead simulacrum of Malfoy? It wouldn't take as long to complete, because it won't have to walk or talk or anything. You can just show Voldemort and then burn it. No one's the wiser."  
  
"It's a good idea, Harry, but Voldemort's not as trusting as all that. He'll want a witness. Probably Lucius, or even himself. He might even want to torture him for a bit before someone kills him." Ginny spoke so matter-of-factly that Harry mentally winced. He wished that she was still pure, untouched by Voldemort's taint. He wanted desperately to protect her, but knew that the closer he stayed to her the more danger she would be in. It was all he could do not to kidnap her and take her away from Voldemort, to Africa, maybe, the Carribean, or America. But they both had ties, obligations. He idly wondered if Cho had made it out alive, and found that he didn't care much.  
  
"Harry?" Ginny was asking. He shook his head and smiled reassuringly at her as Draco began to talk.  
  
"As much as I love being discussed like an inanimate object, I think that my opinion should come into this conversation." Ron snorted, but Ginny and Hermione looked at him, brows furrowed. Harry was lost in thought again.  
  
"Ginny," he looked at her almost tenderly. "You know what happened to me, why I left. You know that I have nothing left. You do, though. You have a lot. If you want, I wouldn't blame you if there was no other way. It wouldn't be so terrible. Really," he said, looking into her blue eyes, now brimming with tears.  
  
"No," she whispered helplessly. "I won't do it. I can't," she said, more loudly, looking to each of them in turn, for support, guidance, maybe.  
  
"Well," Ron said, resigned, "you'll just have to stall, Gin. But be careful, for god's sake."  
"Now," he continued turning to look with disdain on Draco, "What the fuck are we going to do with you?"  
  
A/N: Well, that is all, I hope you liked it. I am now writing in math class (fantastic since I'm getting a 69 and this can only mean future bad things for my mark) so hopefully, I will actually be able to post at least once a week. But if you want long chapters, it'll probably be around two weeks. Tell me which you prefer. I love my loyal readers!  
  
And you should probably know that while Laura and I are still best buddies, she is no longer writing this. So it's all me, folks, and has been for actually quite a number of chapters. Bet you didn't notice, huh? So don't worry. 


	14. Return to 12 Grimmauld Place

The Distance to Here  
  
A/N: Just a couple of notes before we get started. a) Hi Eowyn, nice to have new readers, actually, we started this fic before OotP was published, and I've tried to make necessary changes, ie. Having the OotP disbanded, but started up again under a new name to account for the "rebels", etc. But having said that, Sirius is alive, and there's nothing I can do about it, so bear with me. But I did read OotP the day it came out, finishing 2 days later in a flood of tears.  
  
B) Hi Kika1, I read our "review of your fic" it was kind of harsh, but I was a hardcore purist at the time...I still am, but I'd like to think I'm a little older/wiser now, and resigned to the whole mary sue thing. I'm glad you like our fic...well, my fic now.  
  
C) I'm really happy about all the compliments I've been getting, you guys are fabulous, and I hope you like this one. It's a week later, I'll have you know!  
  
Chapter 14: Return to 12 Grimmauld Place  
  
Days passed that were full of stress and new challenges for the Rebles. Sirius and Remus traced an important package transferred by Muggle Post to Albania by a Mortimer Ludlow. Scarcely believing Ludlow's sloppiness, and his good luck, Ron immediately asked Sirius and Remus to track the package.  
  
"I got you a wand, Sirius," Ron said satisfactorily. "Ollivander is an old friend of the family, he doesn't ask questions. Take it, but when you're in dog form please make sure that Remus has it. And for you, Professor," he inclined his head towards Remus," I had Severus Snape make up a store of Wolf's Bane Potion, just in case. Hopefully you won't be there too long, and it won't be necessary."  
  
"It shouldn't be a problem, but thank you, Ron. You probably want us travelling by Muggle means, do you not? Plane?"  
  
"Yes. Sirius doesn't have a licence to Apparate, and I don't want you under any circumstances to take risks. Remember, stealth is everything. No one knows this is happening, and I really don't want you caught, you're both valuable."  
  
Sirius nodded, and smiled almost sarcastically. "It's okay, Ron, we've been doing this for a long time. Before you were born, for example."  
  
Ron looked sheepish. "I'm sorry, I'm being a prat. I sound like Perce used to. I'm just....nervous. This is my job, my life. Shit." He ran his hand through his hair. "There's no way, though! If I don't do this, who knows? I might not have a job, a life, in five years. But it still all depends on Harry." He sighed. "Thank you, Professor, Sirius. You can contact me when you get there in the usual way. Postcard to the Wheezes. If there's a problem, jump on a plane. You have the credit card? Good. Good luck." After they had safely left, Ron apparated to the Ministry to deal with the fifty owls that were hovering and sitting around his dropping- filled office.  
  
~*~  
  
Sirius and Remus made their way back to 12 Grimmauld Place by Muggle means. After much debate and careful thought, (and in Ron's case, carefully controlled anger,) it was decided that Draco and Hermione as his keeper, would stay with Remus and Sirius at the Black house. Ron, after many years, was still fiercely protective and jealous when it came to Hermione, and was very reluctant to stick her in a house with only Draco for company. But with a firm word from Remus, promising to keep an eye out for her, he conceded, albeit grudgingly.  
  
Remus was civil and borderline friendly with Draco, accepting his loyalty and turnaround as fact. Sirius, on the other hand, had almost come to blows with Malfoy on several occasions. James' death and Peter's treachery had created a streak of insurmountable distrust in him, and he was ever suspicious. With Remus and Hermione stepping in incessantly, they had come to an uneasy truce. It would be good for Draco and Sirius to get some breathing space.  
  
"Hermione!" Sirius called as he opened the door. Draco was standing in the front hall.  
  
"Where's Hermione?" Sirius asked impatiently. Draco narrowed his eyes into slits.  
  
"She's asleep," he said abruptly. "We were going over the Rebel's list of Death Eaters and comparing it to the one I compiled, and she just dropped off." He smiled slightly, abstractly.  
  
It was Sirius' turn to narrow his eyes shrewdly. He sprang up the stairs to Hermione's room, where she was sleeping quite soundly, not a hair out of place. He sighed, almost grudgingly, that she wasn't harmed. What a fantastic woman she had turned out to be. Sirius rounded on Draco, still out for blood.  
  
"You were doing Rebel work in Hermione's room? I don't see any lists lying around!"  
  
"Erm...no, I, er, carried her up here." A faint tinge of colour rose to Draco's cheekbones.  
  
"Oh." Sirius took a deep breath. This was getting awkward for him. "Well, thank you. Remus and I are going away for a job. We don't know how long we'll be gone, but Ron will heep you informed.  
  
"And Draco," he called as he walked out the door, "If anything happens to her you will have more problems than you could ever imagine."  
  
But Draco caught a gleam in his eye as the door shut. Perhaps his credibility was rising. About bloody time, too.  
  
~*~  
  
Although there was by no means a bustling traffic coming through the Black house, occasionally Ron, Harry or Ginny would drop by to collaborate lists, write up reports, and to plan retaliations. Now that the shock of the "Ministry Burn" had worn off, England was calling for blood. Wizards everywhere were practising curses and jinxes, some on Muggles, even, and the Ministry was in disarray. Ron had decided that the only way to quell this outburst of hostility would be a display that the best and brightest of the Wizarding World were still alive, and brutally active. The next meeting of the Death Eaters would result in an upsurge of confidence for the Wizards of England. Slowly, they began to plan In the meantime, they would only wait, and watch, and in Ginny's case, stall.  
  
~*~  
  
"We meet in a grove, a very specific place in the woods around the Malfoy Manor. It's hard to find, full of detectors and concealment charms. It'll be tough,"Ginny said solemnly.  
  
"Is it still an option to use cloaks?" Ron wanted to know. The Ministry had come up with state of the art detection of Invisibility Cloaks. Ludlow could possibly have transferred this technology to Voldemort.  
  
"Yes. I'd say that we should use a Disillusionment Charm and also a Cloak. Just to be safer," she replied.  
  
"What about methods of entry and escape?" Harry brought up. "What are our options? It's a wooded area, right? So that means lots of defense positions, natural concealment, which will help both sides, and limited overhead vision. At night it will be quiet. No Apparition, then."  
  
"It'll have to be brooms," Hermione said, resignedly. She had a perpetual fear of heights, ever since her encounter with Buckbeak in the third year. "With limited overhead vision, it's the most strategic. It's soundless, and it won't be that hard to blend in with the sky. And we'll never have to dismount, we can do a flying attack."  
  
"Of course, during the retreat, on leaving the wood, it might leave us open to targeting. We need state- of- the- art models," Harry said, not at all put out by the thought.  
  
"Done," Ron said promptly. "I"m not keen on getting AK'ed, thank you very much. They're on me. Firebolt Three's alright with everyone?"  
  
Harry grinned. "Do you mind if I keep if afterwards?" This considerably lightened the mood for a while as they discussed Quidditch and the latest game in the league, played by Harry's team, Puddlemere United, and Chudley Cannons. Oliver Wood was the star Keeper for Puddlemere United now, and scouts had tried very hard to recruit Harry as well, as he would have brought immeasurable publicity to the club as well as unparalleled skill. As it had turned out, he was content to watch and cheer with the rest of the population.  
  
"We have a small glitch," Hermione was saying, a line creasing her pale, clear forehead. "Draco. He can't stay alone in the house, especially since Remus and Sirius are gone. I trust him," she said, looking imploringly at Ron, "but I'm afraid that Death Eaters might be getting close. Ginny, tell them."  
  
Ginny looked at her rebelliously, and then turned to Ron. "I think Voldemort might be sending out others to find Draco, not just me. It will be my head if someone finds him first. So, it's my suggestion that Draco takes my place in the raid."  
  
"No," Ron said immediately. "He could destroy everything. If he so much as yells or says something we could all be dead."  
  
"Ron, you're not thinking. I'm supposed to be killing him remember? It's not as if he'll run to the Death Eaters and ask for forgiveness. Because he knows he bloody won't get it."  
  
"Ginny's right, Ron," Harry said quietly, intruding on the red-hot glares being exchanged across the broad wooden table in the kitchen of 12 Grimmauld Place. "He should come. If only for us to keep an eye on him."  
  
Ron opened and closed his mouth, eyes bulging comically. "But, Harry, even if he doesn't betray us, he can still get away on his broom and put Ginny in danger by being at large. There are a million things wrong with this, and you know it!" Seeing he was going to be overruled, and annoyed at everyone's apparent calm, Ron sighed. "Fine," he said irritably. "But if we die, don't blame me."  
  
"Who's dying?" Draco asked, mid-yawn. He had been upstairs sleeping, and now appeared in the kitchen in flannel muggle pajamas and a t-shirt. His hair was still dishevelled from sleeping. He manually got himself a Butterbeer, glaring at the wands all lying on the kitchen table.  
  
"Hopefully you," Ron muttered. More loudly, he said, "We're going to raid a Death Eater meeting, and we're not leaving you alone here. So the only other option is to bring you along, as the fourth person. Maybe the rear-guard," he said nastily.  
  
"What makes you think I want to go to raid a circle of Death Eaters? I have spent the past few months trying to avoid their company, if you haven't noticed."  
  
"Just sit down, before I hex you and listen to what I have to say." Draco stared icily.  
  
"Please," Hermione said softly, and he sat, her cool hand on his drawing him down to the chair beside her.  
  
A/N: Review, please! 


	15. Warm and GooeyThe Unsanitary Dorotheus P...

The Distance to Here

A/N: I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY!! You see, I have a virus which shuts down my computer after 1 minute and there's no way I can go to someone else's place to post this, because I'm a closet HP girl, and so I had to get Internet on my other computer in order to use this…I'm so sorry. I hope I didn't alienate too many of you. And I had it ready after a week, too!

More apologies:

I apologize in advance for those people who were reading because of plot. But what can I say, I like a little mushy disgusting stuff thrown into my fics once in a while. I'm a softie. (Why else would I read J/L or S/OC?) But anyway...here's something for you romance novel readers. I'm sorry, deeply sorry, to the rest of you. (P.S. Don't get your hopes up, I don't write smut)

Read MetroDweller's fics.

Chapter 15: Warm and Gooey

After force-feeding all of the necessary information on Draco, and spewed threats of all kinds on his person, his family, his pet cat, and his genitalia, Ron left, leaving Harry and Ginny alone with Draco and Hermione. He was not in the best of moods.

"Phew," Ginny said, after he was gone. "You know, sometimes he reminds me of how mum used to be around the twins.

"I'm going to go," she continued brightly. "I have to meet someone at the Hog's Head." Changing into her owl form, she flew out of the kitchen window.

"I have to go see Dumbledore," Harry said, looking from Draco to Hermione, both of which stared at their hands, laying limp in their laps. "I told him I'd keep in touch." No one answered. "Well, bye," he said, rather pointedly.

"Bye, Potter," Malfoy said listlessly, recovering from his stupor first.

Harry went out to the alleyway and Apparated to Hogsmeade, from there taking the coach into the Hogwarts grounds. All he could think about was who Ginny had sauntered off to see, and whether he was good enough for her.

"Thank you," Hermione said, still staring downwards. "It was really brave of you to sit down like that and listen. I know that Ron is a prat sometimes and I"m glad you just let it be. I'm sorry he was such an arse..."

"I don't need you to apologize for him, Hermione," Draco said abruptly, but without emotion. "I've known Weasley as long as you have, and I know the way he is.

"But as long as we're giving out apologies and thanks, I wanted to thank you." Oh god, his pride was hard to swallow. "You've trusted me, I think, when no one else would and it's been good to have someone who believes me, even when I'm questioning myself."

  


"Oh," she said delicately, pronouncing the syllable with exaggerated preciseness. "You're welcome. I just, thought you didn't notice. But I do trust you," she said, looking up at him in earnest, now. He had gotten up to pace, and she stood too, stepping closer to him. It was night, the candles floating around the ceiling burned bright and soft, illuminating the porcelain skin outlining his jaw, and the rose tinge across her cheeks. 

"It's so hard," she exclaimed desperately. "To live here, in this time. Where I see you again by arresting you, and begin to know you from keeping you hostage. This isn't how people should grow, and live. This isn't how relationships should form. Do you ever think," she asked him, a wild hope gleaming in her deep brown eyes, "Of what it will be like when this is over?"

"Of course," he said, a crease across his forehead that came years too soon. "Everyone clings to it, and it always seems to be in the not-so-distant future. But that is what's wrong with you, with Potter, and everyone else."

"What do you mean, Draco? What's wrong with Harry?"

"Any fool can see that he's enamoured with Ginny. And that she's been in love with him since she was ten. God knows why," he added with distaste. "But he won't do anything, he just clings to his hope that one day they'll be together without secrecy, without complication. But there's always complication. That's one thing I learned with- with Pansy." His voice hesitated here, but he had always been so strong. "There's always complication."

"But- not this much, I mean, once Voldemort is dead and gone the truth will come out. Everything will be alright again, Ginny won't have to hide, and neither will you."

Draco shook his head. "No, Granger," he said softly, eyes haunting and bleak, softening as they looked into her own, "you can never be sure. So you can't take your life for granted. Especially now. You could be dead tomorrow. Ginny could be betrayed tonight. Harry could fall off a broom. You don't know."

Hermione stood closer now, eyes brimming. It was all true, and she despised every word. She was strong, but not this strong. And she hated the necessity of her courage. She wanted to hide, to cower and go about her normal life and forget Voldemort's existence. She wanted to be below his notice, anonymous and safe. But what she did then would take more courage than she ever thought she would need, and would throw her life out of anonymity forever.

Looking into his steely eyes and thinking that for a moment they looked more like grey velvet, she reached up her hand and smoothed the platinum hair off his face in silent invitation. "You're right, Draco," she said. "So we need to take advantage of what we have..."

"Yes," he affirmed, cupping her chin gently and tilting his head downwards, "I agree."

  


Ginny plopped down into her regular bar-stool at the Hog's Head. She nodded to the bartender who winked discreetly at her before giving her a glass of what looked like Firewhiskey, but wasn't. Dorotheus Pringle, the owner and operator of the pub, had been approached by Dumbledore two weeks earlier, after constant surveillance by various Rebels. They had developed a system whereby Ginny could drink a Firewhiskey with enough Sobering Solution in it to completely balance the effects of the alcohol. She found it was much easier to get information from Death Eaters when they thought she was drunk. They always groped at her though- it was somewhat annoying.

Draco pushed the door to Hermione's room violently open, and backed her into it, moving steadily and holding her to her feet. Their mouths never detached. Hermione loved the feel of him, every part of him. She loved the way his skin was so smooth, so pale that she could see the veins flowing beneath, but underneath this beautiful and delicate surface was a steely power. She succumbed fully to it, losing herself in the sensation of being dominated in every sense. Just as she made this decision, the sensation stopped. Draco held her away from him, searching into her eyes.

"Don't do this to me again, Hermione," he warned her. "If you have any doubts, any second thoughts now is the time to voice them. Once you say yes, there's no turning back. You won't be able to push me away anymore."

Hermione took a deep breath. She looked over at the four-poster, a deep mahogany, adorned with deep green satin sheets. Biting her lip, she looked at Draco. Yes, it would be dangerous. Yes, it would be hard. But looking at the authority and power he exuded from every pore, she couldn't find any fear to turn her away. No matter where she turned, there was only him. Reaching out, she delicately traced a finger over his cheekbone.

"I'm not drunk this time," she said, smiling. "And I'm a very level-headed person." Smirking, Draco grabbed the back of her head and pulled her towards his mouth. Time lost its meaning and she forgot where her limbs were, forgot she even had a body, as every part of her being reeled and was shattered by the steel in his eyes.

Ginny was bored. She had been told to be at the Hog's Head that night by a fellow Death Eater, and in typical bad-guy fashion he had not bothered to tell her an approximate time. She was beginning to think she had missed him, that she had tarried too long at the Black House making doe eyes at Harry. Typical of me, she thought contemptuously. He hasn't even looked at me since the fire.

"Pathetic," she muttered aloud, and footsteps behind her made her jump.

  


"Let's make this brief," Lucius Malfoy said icily as he sat down beside Ginny. He glanced at the barman in disdain before turning his eyes back onto her. She hated when he stared, he unnerved her.

"You called me here, Lucius, not the other way around," Ginny replied obstinately. "So it's entirely up to you to control the length of our meeting." She took a sip from her glass. "Drink?"

"No, thank you," he sneered. "I have a few potion vials at the Manor which I would feel more comfortable drinking out of."

"Suit yourself," she shrugged, and downed the drink, not failing to notice the glint in his eye. He thought she was getting drunk. Stupid Malfoy, always underestimating the intelligence of the women in his life.

"I think you know that I never approved of you becoming one of us. You were- and still are- unworthy of the rank that protects you."

"Oh, I'm sorry, were you talking?" she said mildly. "I'll have another please," she called to the bartender, who scowled. "In any case, you have no right to call me unworthy. The Dark Lord chose me as much as I chose to be part of this order, and as far as he and I are concerned, we are equals. So I don't give a fiddler's fuck what you think of my worth as a Death Eater."

"I know that you have a weakness for my son," Lucius continued, unfazed except for a more steely bite to his voice. "And I have reason to believe that you are unfaithful to the Dark Lord. If you are hiding my son, I will hear of it, be warned. Do not think that all of the Dark Lord's servants are blind to Draco, save you."

Ginny glared, but inwardly she was in turmoil. How did he know? She had to say something.

"Your son," she snapped, emphasising the words, as if deeply offended, "betrayed the Dark Lord and risked his entire cause! Do not suggest that I am in any way guilty of helping him. Though perhaps," she said more calmly, "I could have done something to prevent it."

"Do you still have connection to Harry Potter?" Malfoy fired out at her, paying no heed to her actual response, but watching her face for every muscle movement, every twitch that would give her away.

Ginny laughed. It was borrowed from Bellatrix Lestrange, who had taken to Ginny when she had first joined the Death Eaters. Bellatrix had delighted in the fact that Harry's former friend would turn against him so completely, and so had showered lavish presents on her and kept her by her side. Ginny was in fact grateful, because she learned from Bellatrix the mannerisms and idiosyncrasies which only Death Eaters had. And she had learned this laugh. It was high and scornful, designed to raise goosebumps and lower confidence.

  


"Lucius," she said indulgingly, "are you really so desperate to save face in front of the Dark Lord that you would risk looking senile and out of touch with reality when your accusations prove false? Discrediting me for the sake of winning back what little honour your family has left seems overreaching. And the Dark Lord would see through your falseness. You used to be subtle, Lucius. I have a confession to make. At one point, when I was twelve, I was afraid of you. But now you are obsolete.

"Goodnight, and thank you for the lovely chat. I assume you're paying my tab?"

Teetering dramatically in a way that she was proud of, she walked out the door with dignity, copper hair blazing.

When she was out of sight and hearing distance, her shoulders slumped and she heaved a sigh, when from behind a strong arm clamped her hands at her sides and pressed her against a hard and unyielding body, and a hand closed around her mouth. Her eyes widened, but she couldn't scream.

A/N: I am QUEEN of the cliffies. I know I'm terrible. 3 guesses who the kidnapper is! A free sneak preview of the next chapter by email to everyone who reviews and makes a guess! But the catch is, you need to give me feedback too.

Eg. Your fic sucks, it's Voldemort. – you get a sneak preview.

McGONAGALL– sorry, no preview.

Clear? Good.


	16. The Peak of the Rolling Hills

The Distance to Here

****

A/N: I just had a thought. Instead of just emailing, I'm going to post another full chapter in a record of 1 day. This way I'll be able to satisfy everyone, and make up for the abomination that was the two weeks of waiting. Sorry again, and I hope you like this. Only one person so far has been right in their guesses….let's see who it is!!!

Chapter 16

            Ginny was scared. Her captor was not relenting. He was silent and did not loosen his grip, and his hand was pressed uncompromisingly over her mouth, although Ginny was firmly asserting her strength. She was kicking, biting, shouting muffled obscenities into the warmth of his palm. And although he was unrelenting, iron hard in his resolution and his grip, he didn't retaliate. He simply held on with silent steadfastness. And that, more than anything, made Ginny's brain flick from the panic mode to cool-headedness. She stopped struggling and began to look around her.

            Her captor was taking her along the lane that led to the tail end of the village, where shabby and degenerated cabins with chipping paint stood desolately in overgrown yards. It was at this point that Ginny noticed that she could freely see all around her. Her eyes weren't covered. This relaxed her even more, because although she did not have a lot of experience with kidnapping in general, she knew it would be much easier to keep a captor hidden when he didn't know exactly where he was being held. Whoever had her was either not very bright, or not very concerned.

            They marched further along, him pushing her at a brisk pace. Her head kept crashing into his chest as they sought in vain to fall into rhythm with one another, yet he made no sound, and made no indication that he noticed it at all. It was then that she realized where he was taking her.

            The Shrieking Shack was intimidating enough in broad daylight, with it's cracking boards, banging shutters, and creepily ethereal once-white curtains, battered with time and Mother Nature. All of the local folk assumed it was haunted, and it had been Ron who told her of Lupin and The Marauders, and the true history of the Shack. Ginny had thought that she and the Rebels were the only ones who knew about that it was only an urban legend, but apparently Voldemort's reach of knowledge was greater than she imagined.

            If the body pressed against her hadn't been hard and tensed with muscle, Ginny would have been convinced it was either Crabbe or Goyle. They were both stupid enough not to disarm her or to bind her magically, and also to leave her with complete visibility. As it was, the man behind her was neither fat, nor smelled constantly of some sort of pork product, so it couldn't be either of the two. Ginny was confused.

            She stumbled over the roots and uneven mounds of dirt that lay across the lawn in front of the shack, which grew more intimidating the closer she approached. The man behind her never faltered, picking her up and placing her upright again almost as though she were a troublesome toddler who has had enough during a day of shopping, and spontaneously lies down, refusing to go any further. But Ginny was pinioned too tightly to either lie down or refuse to go any further. The man would probably just carry her.

            Nudging the front door open, both captor and captive entered the Shrieking Shack. It was pitch black and silent, and only their breathing could be heard amid the deafening quiet that surrounded them. Ginny tried to be quiet. To her surprise, the man holding her let go and stood at the door, pushing it closed behind him and standing as a barricade between her and the only exit. Before she could run up the staircase to her left, he took out his wand and said, "Lumos." That voice was very familiar. In fact, it sounded a lot like-

            "- Harry Potter!" Ginny cried out in vexation. "What the bloody fucking hell are you trying to pull?"

            Despite himself, and the possible gravity of the situation, Harry couldn't help himself. He laughed. "You've got strong legs, there, Weasley," he said, through his chuckles. "You damn near tore some chunks out of my leg.

            "You deserve it, you bastard," she retorted, without vehemence. She was beginning to see the humour of the situation. "Next time, send me an owl or something."

            "I can't anymore. I know what Lucius said to you in the Hog's Head. I was in there, in my Invisibility Cloak, keeping an eye on you and getting my share of information from other conversations in that pub. We can't meet anymore unless it's at the old Headquarters, or somewhere that's completely deserted. And I didn't want you recognizing me and getting found out, especially with Lucius in such close proximity. Sorry," he added sheepishly.

            "Why can't we just meet at Headquarters?" Ginny asked, partly knowing and partly fearing the answer. Harry sighed.

            "Ginny, I can't stop thinking about you. About the night of the fire. Every time…I try to think about the people who died, about Cho, who might have died, we don't know yet…but I can't. Every time I think of the flames, they just melt away and you're there in their place. I know Cho and I have a long history, but so do you and I. If you don't want this, tell me. But don't think I haven't felt this for a long time, that I don't want it, too."

            Ginny looked into his green eyes, the light of the wand tip gleaming in their center, and she thought of James and Lily Potter, who had died defending their child, who had died in love, and died together.

            Then she grabbed him.

            An hour later, Ginny giggled softly as she detached herself from Harry. "What?" he asked her, grinning indulgently.

            "There's two things," she replied, still tittering. "The first one was that when you were dragging me along that path and I was in fear for my life, I kept thinking that the guy who was kidnapping me had a great body." Harry kissed her on the nose, where her freckles made an arcing path across its bridge and her cheeks, and nodded.

            "It comes with the job, aren't you lucky," he said cheekily. "What's the other thing?" he prodded.

            "I'm glad we didn't meet at Headquarters," she said winking, and he laughed as she pulled his head down to kiss her again.

It's safe to say that on the whole, everyone was happier that Harry and Ginny did not show up unexpectedly. They had found their happiness for the moment, and the only world that existed for them was inside the Shrieking Shack. The same was true for Hermione and Draco, who found solace together in the quiet and comfort of Draco's room, and more specifically, his four-poster.

            "Mmm," Hermione murmured as she buried her face in Draco's chest. She was asleep, completely comforted in Draco's warmth and strength. At last they understood each other. Amid the chaos of the war around them, in the middle of this conflict, they rested in a bubble, perfectly content and safe.

            Draco stayed awake. Try as he might, he could not relax. He had wanted her. He still did, and he looked at her now with such affection that he knew in his heart that it was not a conquest- although at times he had felt as though he were fighting a battle. He was apprehensive. She was innocent, compared to him. Though she was an Auror and Harry Potter's friend, she still knew almost nothing of the evil that people were capable of. He had been on that side, and knew what was in store for those who didn't support Voldemort in the coming months.

            He mused, and stroked Hermione's shoulder, tracing his hand down her arm to her waist, and gathered her close to him. Would this be enough? Would their mutual trust, respect, and chemistry be enough to withstand the cunning, guile and wrath of Voldemort and his father? He hoped to god it would. For all of his speeches in the kitchen about the eternity of complication, part of him desperately wished for simplicity.

            _Hermione was walking with Draco, hand in hand. They were in Scotland, wandering among the heather in between the rocky craigs and lush, rolling hills. She spotted a high peak, green and breathtaking._

_            "Come on," she said, grabbing his hand. "Let's climb it, the view will be beautiful."_

_            He resisted. "It'll be too hard," he protested._

_            "Nothing's too hard, Malfoy."_

_            They climbed to the top, at times Draco protested, at times Hermione wanted to quit. The further they climbed, the more clouds began to migrate in their direction._

_            "Don't like the weather, just wait five minutes," Hermione laughed, caution and inhibition taken away by the crisp Highland air. Draco laughed, too._

_            They reached the top. The clouds darkened as they stood at the peak of the hill. They began to dance, slowly, arms wrapped around each other._

_            Suddenly, lightning struck. Hermione was lying on the ground, eyes wide and staring. She could see straight in front of her, but she couldn't move her eyes, or any part of her body. Draco was yelling, staring down at her, speaking to her frantically and asking if she was okay. She tried to comfort him, to tell him she was okay, that they were young and beautiful and exhilarated. She wanted to tell him that they were at the peak of the mountain, but she was frozen._

Well, there you have it. ONE DAY. If you read this, please review it, because a girl whose fic I read, bluebottlebutterfly is her name, (read her fics) had a 20 chapter story that had 1706 reviews. And I have a measly 74. Ok, so I'm less consistent. But I'm giving you a long, good chapter with romance etc. so I expect some review lovin'! My aim is 90. Please?


	17. Part One: Would He Forgive Me?

A/N: I was sad and lonely when I wrote some of this, and I wanted to impress the fact that…well, hopefully you'll see my ideas. Thank you to everyone who reviewed, and who are supporting this.

Chapter 17: Would He Forgive Me? 

            Remus and Sirius stepped off the plane into Albania's small, deserted airport, where the solitary figures were surly businessmen and annoyed teenagers loudly complaining and chewing their gum too loudly. The two friends scanned for suspicious activities. One of Voldemort's most blatant oversight in operating in the Muggle world was, because of his hatred for Muggles and Muggle-borns he was always more conspicuous when it came to disguise. Dumbledore, for all his scruples, knew how to keep himself hidden. Seeing no wizards whatsoever, they proceeded to the hotel that Ron had directed them to.

            It was nicer than what both of them were used to. After the wasted splendour of the Black house, full of dank rooms absent of cheer or comfort, the wood paneled walls and dark blue carpet created a homely glow in their hearts. Lupin lit a fire which crackled happily as they talked of their plans for the coming days. First they would go to the address discovered in the mail records. Hopefully it would carry them further. Sirius had Albanian relatives, and spoke the language enough to get by. Most of their traveling would be done using brooms or in Muggle ways.

            It was very doubtful they would find very much that was significant in this brief investigation, but the effort needed to be put forth.

            Sirius stared gloomily at the fire, his eyes reflecting its golden flickers He was unusually still.

            "What's going on, Sirius?" Remus asked him. It was a tired conversation. Lately, Sirius had been unpredictable and gloomy, at turns quiet and raging. But he had never explained before now.

            "Did you ever think," he began cryptically, in a quietly intense voice, "when we were all together at Hogwarts, that in twenty five years one of us would be a traitor, serving Voldemort-" Remus closed his eyes and swallowed audibly, "-that one of us would be dead, leaving behind him a boy living under the weight of the world as we know it, that one of us would be a social recluse; penniless and ostracized, and that the last would be an innocent but convicted murderer on the run, with his friend's death hanging over him at every turn? Did you ever think we'd be so divided? We were _it_, Remus. We were the chosen few who were going to liberate the world from Voldemort. We were untouchable. Now look at us."

            Remus winced when he heard that description of himself. "We have more than that, Sirius. We have Harry, the Order…"

            "Why do you think we're all such broken men, Remus?" Sirius said sharply. "We've given all we have to the bloody Order. Our lives, our freedom, our future. James gave his son and his wife to the cause we're fighting for."

            "We both loved James like a brother," Remus said. He spoke now more heavily; the burden on his heart became more evident to him the more he spoke.

            Sirius shook his head. "Sometimes I wonder if it was all worth it," he whispered. Wordlessly, Remus gripped his shoulder. Looking back, the past was seen in such a bitter light. What more could they have done, to make their time last?

            "Would he forgive me?"

            They sat in silence long after the fire had died out.

Review! The next part of this chapter will be up on Monday. It's written, but I need to type and proof, and I have an essay, a film review, and a presentation to do all for tomorrow or Tuesday. Bear with me, it's ISU season.


	18. The Shit Hits the Fan

"It's time," she said grimly, opening the door. "Oh, shit! Hermione, I'm so sorry…" Ginny slammed the door on the pair of blushing people in the four-poster, giggling. She knocked this time, before coming in, to find a shirtless man in hastily thrown-on pants and a furiously red Hermione sitting in the bed with an over-sized T-shirt on. She saw Draco gaze surreptitiously at Hermione with softness in those steely eyes and the laughter died in her throat. It could all end. Any second.

"The Mark's burning. Are you all ready? We have to move." She turned and wordlessly left.

Draco ran a hand through his hair. How long had they been in this enclosed paradise within the gloomy confines of the Black House? A day? A year? Only to have them emerge as if it had never happened. Only to be thrown back into Peril's deadly cold hands. They dressed silently, in plain black robes that would not billow too much, enlarging the target.

Hermione hoped to the gods that Ginny wouldn't tell Ron about what she had seen. It was too much for him to handle just yet. Too much almost for even her to handle, to accept. What would she do when this was all over? How could all of those people closest to her simply accept him as changed? Well, she thought fiercely, they would _have_ to. She wasn't going to give him up.

When they went downstairs, they were greeted by Ron, Harry, and Ginny. Ginny was smiling slightly out of the corner of her mouth at them. Hermione raised an eyebrow when she saw Harry's hand slip behind him to toy with the back of Ginny's robe. Ron, as usual, was oblivious to everything, and handed out the brooms, rapping out last-minute instructions and advice.

"Anyone gets hit, the closest person grabs them and we fly like bats out of hell. Stay low, near the trees. The curses will be more easily deflected. No one uses Unforgiveables. No one," he said, looking sternly at Malfoy, and at Harry. "This is going to be widely publicized, and I don't want word of Ministry officials using illegal curses."

Everyone nodded, and Disillusioned themselves. The mood was quiet and tense, and no one spoke more than they had to. They shuffled around one another in the small kitchen, grabbing wands and Cloaks and finally, they were all invisible and ready.

"Let's go," said Harry, and because he was invisible, no one noticed as he gripped Ginny's hand before she Apparated to the Malfoy Manor.

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Remus and Sirius woke early and in silence. They had not exchanged two words since their conversation the night before. It was as if it had never happened, and yet they knew that it would be impossible to disregard. It was too painful, too close, and a little to sharp to think about, at least for Sirius.

"What do you reckon?" he finally asked. It was time to get on with business. "How do we get into the building?"

Remus ran his hand through prematurely graying hair. "We do what James would have done. Walk right in." Sirius grinned.

"Perfect."

They made their way to the address, and wore suits, for extra authority. It was an old warehouse, which claimed to store antique goods of all origins and ages. They strolled right in and up to the desk. Taking the good-cop bad-cop routine, Remus spoke first in a solemn, soft voice.

"We're here to pick up a package from Mortimer Ludlow that was shipped here. He contacted us about it, and we are interested in acquiring it." Praying that it was the right thing to say, he waited for the security guard's answer.

"Can I please see some identification?" he asked in a bored, accented voice.

Sirius barked out a laugh. "I don't think you understand. We're interested in acquiring a valuable and rare object that we are compensating Mr. Ludlow and your establishment very generously for. We are not accustomed to being treated in this undignified manner. On your feet, and take us to the package, or suffer Mr. Ludlow's displeasure." He said this in his best imitation of his father, clipped and haughty. The security guard stood, eyes wide and intimidated.

"This way," he said, fear inundating his voice.

They were led through a large corridor to a smaller room, which held several shelves of boxes, all packaged away. On the bottom of one of these shelves, the security guard pointed to a small package, which looked like it held a basketball or something of a similar size.

"Thank you," Sirius said, in the same clipped tones. "That will be all." The security guard was too intimidated to argue. He merely backed away, always facing them, until he passed out of sight behind a stack of boxes. Remus went to see where the security guard was, and saw that he was walking long-strided back to his desk.

"Let's go," he said, returning. "We'll open it back at the hotel."

When they returned, climbing through an open window and mussing their suits terribly, they immediately sat by the fire and ripped open the package. Inside was an urn, but the strangest urn they had ever seen. It had no handle, and rim at the top was slightly uneven. There were dark etchings over it, that looked like…

"A head…" Remus mused. "If you turn it upside down it looks like a head."

Sirius stared at it, and then Transfigured it back to its original form. There, lying on the rich blue carpeting of the hotel room was Cornelius Fudge's body. His eyes were wide and still staring, but otherwise no mark was on him.

"Bad," Remus said, hollowly. "This is very, very bad. We need to get back to Britain. Now." Sirius transfigured Cornelius back into an urn, but this one was much prettier and better done. He had always been excellent at that sort of thing.

They packed quickly, and Sirius paid for their bill while Remus booked two tickets back to London on a flight that left in 3 hours. Later, while they both slept, Remus woke sweating from a dream of a security guard lying, eyes wide and staring, on the floor of a warehouse.

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"I knew he was not in Dublin, My Lord," she said. "The evidence was not there."

"And yet," Voldemort hissed, "he was _seen_ with that Mudblood friend of Harry Potter leaving through the Floo Network gates to _your brother's_ shop in Diagon Alley. What do you say to that?" Ginny flinched. She had tried to prepare for this. She had to play her trump card, and hope it didn't blow up in her face.

"We are uncertain if that was Draco Malfoy, My Lord. You forget that Draco has never befriended Harry Potter or any of his friends. You forget that they are most unlikely to help him. It could be that they use his image as a disguise for when they are traveling. He and Harry Potter dueled many times. It is possible that Draco's hair has been for use in a Polyjuice Potion. Besides," she said, rather smugly. "Lucius' team of people was not able to capture them, or even successfully follow them. We will never know if it was Draco or not."

"Your insolence is treading a fine line, Miss Weasley," he spat. "As little as we know of Draco's whereabouts, you should have been first to follow any sight of young Mr. Malfoy. Lucius was the only one with the incentive to do so."

"Lucius," she retorted, "is acting to save his own reputation in the knowledge that he could not even make his own son a loyal supporter of you. And, though he didn't tell you, Crabbe Sr. was arrested by the Muggle authorities and was later taken to Azkaban. He has single-handedly united the Irish Muggles and the Ministry." She stepped back and surveyed the crowd of Death Eaters, head raised. Voldemort looked at her with a rare expression for him: surprise.

He looked incredulously at Lucius, who was squirming and glaring at Ginny. "Is this true, Lucius? What else have you been concealing from me, my friend? _Legillimens_."

After a few moments, Voldemort laughed. "You doubt my trust in the Weasleyette? You doubt my acceptance of her? Perhaps you need to learn that the authority of Lord Voldemort must be unquestioned. _Crucio_!" In that moment of confusion and pain, the air filled with more than the painful gasps of Lucius Malfoy.

Curses, jinxes, hexes began to fall out of the air like rain, showering down upon the Death Eaters. Taken off guard, many fell at once, immobilized and stunned. Ropes hurled down and attempted to pick some of them up. MacNair was successfully taken and sent to Dumbledore in Hogsmeade, waiting for them with Neville Longbottom. Bellatrix and Voldemort were the first to recover from the shock of the attack, and soon a full out battle was being waged in the woods of the Malfoy Manor.

A concealed figure watched it all from the trees. Derek Boyden, staff journalist for the Daily Prophet watched and recorded it all from his well-concealed hiding place. Curses flashed and rebounded off trees and branches, sending sparks and flashes of light high into the dark night air. Red, green, hex, curse flew to and fro in the blackness. Ginny's face was illuminated in fear, as she began to fire back upon her brother, her lover and her closest friends, purposefully misdirecting, praying to anyone and everyone to help her through this fight. But at that moment, as they say, the shit hit the fan. Avery beside her threw out a cutting curse. A voice that she would later place as Ron's cried out, "_Protego_!" and it hit her.

Four voices called out her name in anguish, as Harry flew straight towards her. She lay bleeding, feeling oddly light and airy. Draco followed and in that instant, time slowed down. Voldemort turned to her at the last moment and aimed a killing curse at her. Harry reached her too late and they could only look on as the bolt of green light flashed towards them.

Draco reached out and disapparated, as only he could within the Malfoy grounds. Hermione and Ron sped down towards the trees, grabbed Derek, and flew away to safety, panting and worried for their Ginny. They dropped Derek off at Hogsmeade and left Dumbledore to deal with the captives. Crabbe and Goyle Junior had been hit with their own killing curses, and MacNair had been taken to Azkaban. Bellatrix's husband lay unconscious under the watchful eye of the Headmaster. After an eternity, they arrived back at 12 Grimmauld Place.

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"You saved our lives," Harry said disbelievingly as he stared at Malfoy and then back at Ginny, lying peacefully in Hermione's bed. "Both of us."

"Shut up, Potter," Draco growled. "This doesn't mean I have to like you. This is about Ginny, not you. But you do realize what this means. This little war timeline of ours just skipped a lot of steps. We have to go to war now before they pick us off one by one. The foreplay's over, Potter. It's time for the real thing."

"That's a great image, Draco, thanks," Ginny mumbled before turning over onto her good side. "Now go away and let me rest." They both turned to leave the room. "Potter, did I tell you that you could go? Get your ass over here." Harry grinned as Draco grimaced and left to wait for Hermione.

"You were so brave," Ginny whispered into his chest as climbed into the bed beside her. "So brave." And she went to sleep.

A/N: Okay. I've decided to start this one up again because of the combined inspiration of the HBP and the GoF movie. Also because I just really want to know how this ends and see it all played out on paper. Plus, it's on 17 people's fav story list (Thanks guys!) and I feel terrible letting everyone down. So there it is. Please review, and I promise it will get finished. Soon.


	19. Drunken Duels

A/N: Okay, here's the next chapter. Expect the usual slow-ish updates, although Christmas does beg at least some excuses. I need to spend time w/ my family, after all. Anywhoo, here it is. I'll try to update sooner next time.

_**Chapter 19: **_

_**Attack on Malfoy Mansion Leads to Capture and Imprisonment of Deatheaters Macnair and Lestrange!**_

_This morning, an exhausted Ronald Weasley confirmed the eyewitness reports of a Ministry-led attack on the grove around Malfoy Manor last night. His team, consisting of Aurors Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, included one unknown agent, possibly one of the mysterious underground group known as the Rebels. Two Deatheaters, their identities as of yet unknown, were killed in the skirmish, and both Macnair and Rodolphus Lestrange are being held in a highly secure safe-house under twenty-four hour supervision by Aurors. _

_No other Deatheaters were captured at the time, but Mr. Ronald Weasley provided some comment on the subject. "I am almost positive that no trace of You-Know-Who remains at the Malfoy Manor, however, Aurors will be searching the premises presently, and the capture of two of His close supporters is encouraging to our side. It is very possible that they may provide us with crucial information."_

_Upon being asked about the death of two Deatheaters, in direct violation of the Code of Aurors, which strictly prohibits the use of Unforgiveable Curses, Weasley commented, "The area which we attacked was heavily wooded to provide cover for both sides. All of my agents were forbidden to use any Unforgiveables, and it is probable that a killing curse shot by a Deatheater rebounded off of a tree and hit the wrong target. I firmly believe that no Auror has violated his or her code in any way." For an eyewitness account of the night in question by Derek Boyden, turn to page 3._

Ron finished reading the article with a sigh. Derek had come through, and there were even a couple of photos depicting the fight, with Voldemort standing out prominently and glaring at Harry. Ron himself thought he looked rather impressive. He was shouting a curse and his wand was pointed dramatically at someone who he knew to be Lucius Malfoy.

Ginny had fully recovered, of course, after spending three days in her room, locked up with Harry. When they emerged he had looked worse than Ginny had when she was first put there. Ron had been tactfully ignoring any signs of his sister's budding relationship with his best friend, but they were being anything but subtle. He would have to say something soon, if they kept it up, or risk looking like a complete moron to everyone who knew him.

But Ron could not contemplate his sister's love life any longer. Remus barged into his office, followed closely by Sirius, in dog-form. Ron took one look at Remus' face and Sirius' fur, which was standing on end, and closed the door before turning to look at them both.

"Ludlow killed Fudge," Remus panted, before Ron could say anything. "The package…it was…"

Sirius transformed and took over. "Ron, I don't know how you want to handle this, but we found Fudge's body. It's not pretty." He transfigured the urn Remus was holding and Ron winced. Fudge looked as though he had been tortured. His face was contorted with pain, and his eyes, though squinted, were still open.

"This was the package that Ludlow sent to Albania. It was still in the warehouse when we got it, which means that no one had picked it up yet. But by now, Voldemort must know that we took it. Which means you've got to act fast. Get this into the press, and start to gather an army." Ron gaped.

"Sirius is right. This is going to be full-scale war, and whether you are prepared or not, you need to lead those who have the courage to fight. Harry has his own battle. People look up to you." Remus looked through his fringe at the ginger-haired boy, no, man, standing in front of him. It wasn't up to the Marauders anymore. It wasn't up to his generation. The torch had been passed on, and he only had to play his menial role before being swallowed up by time. "Now. Tell us what you want us to do," he said, face set.

Ron swallowed. He wished for Hermione right now. She was tactical and smart, and organized. But she wasn't around. He didn't know where she was. So he sucked it up. Took the burden and shouldered it, praying to whatever was up there that he wouldn't buckle under its weight.

"Send out messages. To everyone who is trustworthy. And tell them to do the same. We'll meet in Hogsmeade, in the Shrieking Shack, and we'll work out ranks and spells. But we need to meet before then. Just the Rebels, I mean. At the Black House, tomorrow night. This is going to be hell." Remus and Sirius nodded, and left.

"This is going to be hell," he said again, to no one.

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Derek Boyden smiled as he walked down Diagon Alley, taking in the chatter, all of which revolved around his article. He could have kissed Ron Weasley for making his career like that. What a story! His name as a journalist was made. Even though he was now as big a target as Weasley himself, he felt invincible. He was famous.

Boyden was a classic reporter. Humanity was sometimes lost on him, and he would go to any lengths to get a story. Some thought that this qualified as bravery, but he knew better. It was calculation and self-interest and he was okay with that. Except now, he knew that things were about to change.

It wasn't until he had sent his story into the Daily Prophet that he realized that by publishing this with his by-line he was declaring sides. He was openly admitting that he was allied to Ron Weasley. This made his reporter's instinct of survival and self-interest kick-in. He wanted to be famous for his writing, not because he died on Voldemort's battlefield. Strutting up to the Floo Network Office, his resonating voice boomed out, "Ministry of Magic, please," and he stepped into the fire to tell Ronald Weasley that he wanted to join whatever force was fighting Voldemort. It wasn't bravery, he told himself.

"Just the man I wanted to see," Ron said as Derek entered his office. Derek looked apprehensively at the gleam in the young Weasley's eyes.

"Why, Mr. Weasley, I'm flattered," he said, grinning.

"I need you to write another story for me," Ron said, looking over to the corner where an urn stood on the floor. "And I want to know how queasy you become around blood and such." Derek grinned.

"I'm a reporter, Ron," he said. "I get paid to see what other people can't stomach and then tell them about it." Wordlessly, Ron transfigured the urn. Boyden's eyes widened, then he coughed lightly. "Well, well, well," he muttered to himself, then took out his pad of paper.

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"Everyone, get down here!" Ron bellowed as he entered the Black House, armed with supplies. "Oi! In the kitchen!" Slowly, people began to appear in twos. First, Hermione and Draco, looking slightly ruffled, but Ron didn't notice because he was rooting through brown paper bags. Next came Ginny and Harry, looking puzzled, but amused at Ron's forcefulness. When they saw the contents of the bags he had brought, they exchanged glances. Lastly, came Remus and Sirius, looking tired and worn from a day of recruitment. When they saw what was on the kitchen table their faces broke out into grins. Was Sirius not just suggesting that they needed the help of something powerful?

"Firewhiskey?" Harry said, puzzled.

"Exactly, Harry," Ron answered gleefully. "Tomorrow, the war starts, but tonight is the last time we have that belongs to _us_. So I say we forget our problems for one night and wake up tomorrow with a pounding headache, ready to start the war." He looked around at all of their faces. Hermione looked scandalized, but reminiscent. Harry looked really amused, and Ginny and Draco had looks of faint surprise on their features. Sirius and Remus wore identical mischievous grins.

"Pour out a shot for everyone, then, Weasley," Draco drawled. "We don't have all night." Ron grinned, and for the rest of her life, Hermione would never forget that these two enemies had first bonded over fucking _whiskey_. Men were so idiotic.

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Two hours later, two of the bottles were empty and a third was currently being finished by none other than Ron and Draco. They were slightly unsteadily pouring its contents into several different shot glasses and beckoning the girls over to take it with them.

"Come on, Ginny, have another one," Ron was saying. His voice was only slightly slurred as of yet. The boy could handle his liquor. "This is a historic family moment. I'm robbing you of your alcohol-virgin status and everyone knows that the first time you get drunk is wasted if you don't puke afterwards. I can't believe Fred and George didn't come. They would have been proud of this moment."

Ginny laughed and grabbed hold of Harry's hips to steady herself. "Ron, you're so cute. Do you really think this is the first time I've ever been drunk? I've even been drunk with Harry before! And pass me that shot…" she giggled as she sat down too hard on the chair and tipped back the whiskey with more ease than a girl of her size should have.

Hermione watched this exchange from her place on Draco's lap and snorted with laughter into his chest. He looked at her with a bemused, slightly unfocused, expression. "What?"

She didn't answer, she only snickered more. Then her breathing became deeper, and he realized that she had fallen asleep. No doubt lulled by the Weird Sisters song that Remus and Sirius were softly singing, swaying back and forth from their seats on the floor. Draco inched his chair towards the table, still balancing the passed-out Hermione, who was way too much of a lightweight for someone of her age, and poured himself another shot.

Ten minutes later, Hermione, Draco, and their chair went tumbling onto the kitched floor. Sirius and Remus were now standing, holding their wands, and grinning evilly at one another.

Draco got up, looking furious and unsteady, but Remus was too quick and hit him with a tickling curse that immobilized him and had him gasping for breath on the floor.

"Oh, no you don't!" Ginny slurred, and tried to cast her famous Bat-Bogey hex on Remus. It hit Sirius instead, because of her unfocused vision. Recovering, Sirius launched a Jelly-Legs curse at Ginny, but it hit Harry and they both fell over. Ginny squealed and Harry moaned as she landed on top of him.

Thus the drunken duel began. Yes, it was reckless, yes, they all passed out on the kitchen floor, and yes, Draco was turned into a giant slug at one point, by none other than Hermione, but it was fun, and they had been craving it like oxygen for ages, suffocating. The best part of it was that the next morning, Sirius made his famous hangover cure, and when he was making it, Ron brought out enough glasses for Draco to be included. In her overemotional, post-drunken state, Hermione burst into tears, and no one had the presence of mind to do anything. They only stared up at her through bleary eyes, as her confused emotions spilled over her face.

Harry, for one, thought that it had been a perfect night. They had had lots of fun, and this morning, the dawn of the end of an era, they had all woken up to light and sound sensitivity, headache, and nausea. How apt.

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Meanwhile, in Diagon Alley, the Daily Prophet had been circulated and was now causing a large fuss. A huge photo of Cornelius Fudge's body stood out on the front page, with an article by Derek Boyden. The headline read, "_WAR_".

**A/N: Here it is! My Christmas chapter! Did you like the Drunken Duel? I was going to have them madly toasting things, but then I realized it was too reminiscent of the Felix part of HBP. But there's nothing like drunkenness to bring people together. Next chapter: Battle! Ambush! Love! Innocence! Death? There's going to be 21 chapters plus an epilogue. PLEASE REVIEW! **


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